Love and Other Labels
by dontstealmyvitaminies
Summary: Eli hated a lot of things. England, Headmistress du Bourg, Clare Bingley, her label, but particularly Darcy. It was very inconvenient for her, then, that they were forcibly engaged. Not to mention the fact that she might just be falling in love with him.
1. And the Frenzy Begins

**A/N:** **Well, here it is, finally. I've been working on this a few weeks before I finished 'Sweet Lolita', and came up with the idea around halfway through 'Sometimes You Can't Make it on Your Own', and now, as I type at about one AM, I'm pretty darn glad to FINALLY be getting this up.** **I'd like to thank everyone who read and reviewed 'Sweet Lolita', and request your patience on this one, because you don't actually see Darcy until next chapter… Yes. But I hope you like it :D**

"_Well I've been here before, _

_Sat on the floor on a grey, grey room_

_Where I stay in all day,_

_I don't eat, but I play with this grey, grey food_

_Desolé, if someone is praying, then I might break out,_

_Desolé, even if I scream, I can't scream that loud"_

-Damien Rice, 'Grey Room'

**3****rd**** of May, 2009**

**7:23pm**

Dear Journal,

You aren't going to believe this. I'm really, _really _freaking out now.

Okay Eli, just… calm down. This can't be happening. It's impossible. It just can't be.

I mean, I'm only sixteen, and he's only eighteen. It makes absolutely no sense, it _can't_ have happened. Why would he even… no. Not possible.

Oh my God.

Fuck.

The ring… It's true.

Darcy just asked me to _marry_ him.

Eighteen year old, snobby, stuck-up life-ruiner, fucktard man-wench PRICK Darcy (how completely ARROGANT is it that he just goes by his last name?) wants ME to marry _HIM_!

And by 'ask', I really mean order. Because that's what it was, an order, an assumption, like I was some sort of pre-awoken Edna Pontellier or just some mindless, money grasping bimbo! In fact, he didn't even _ask,_ he just _assumed _I would marry him! And he doesn't even _like _me! He's only doing this because he was _told _to do it! And I don't even think I have a choice in this – because people keep on saying things like 'contract' and 'parental permission' and 'pre-nuptial', I'm surrounded by people that I don't know who seem to be planning my life, and –

Dammit. _Francie_.

My fucked up excuse for a mother has a lot to answer for!

Ever since she made friends with that COW who happens to run my school… I bet they planned this all in their little covens whilst they roasted crows and cackled away…

Okay Eli, reading too much these days. Just… think…

I can't believe I just let him kiss me like that! Now everything is up in ruins, what can I do? I can't run – but I've just lost Dorr because of this! I can't just let it take over my life! But what options do I have? I should have listened to Llewellyn, I should have kept my distance! Dammit, _now_ look what's happened, I think I might be falling for the one man I've vowed to hate above all else! And what's worse, I'm now going to be _forced_ to marry him! I can't do it!

But can you believe this? Can you _believe_, Journal, what's going on?

This is all my Dad's fault. _He_ moved us to England. _He_ was the one that sent me to be tested all those years ago.

No, this isn't Dad's fault, it's _Darcy_'s.

And it's my stupid, fucking label's fault.

The only word right now that sounds worse than 'gifted' is 'marriage'.

~ * ~

Eli visibly shivered as she pulled her coat closer to her body, burying her chin into her scarf to stop her teeth from chattering together.

"Get out of the car, Eli," Jay ordered her patiently.

"It's fucking _cold_," she chattered in response, glancing outside of the fogged up window, everything covered in watery ice.

_Why does it rain so much in England_, she thought miserably. _This is just ridiculous! Why would anyone want to live in such a horrible place?_

"You're wearing tights, a skirt, a singlet, a blouse, a jumper, and a thick coat, not to mention a beanie, gloves and a scarf. You'll survive," Jay countered, her voice starting to grow stern.

"N – no I won't," she managed to get out through clenched teeth. "It's so bloody _cold_!"

"Eli, we're in a _heated car_! Get your backside out of this vehicle right now!" Francie cried angrily from the front seat. Eli sighed miserably, and squeezed her eyes shut as she slid out of the open door, onto the icy footpath.

She let out a squeal; feeling her lips turn blue as the cold air surrounded her. She heard the car door slam behind her, and then the other as her mother climbed out of the front seat, her stiletto boots clacking sharply on the asphalt coated sidewalk.

"Hurry up. We'll be late," she snapped, gripping her daughter's arm, pulling her towards the large stone and iron gates, separating Rosings Park College from the rest of the world. Eli pulled back from Francie's grip, but followed Jay in a miserable, angered silence. Her mouth felt like it had frozen shut, the cold biting painfully at her face.

"We've been in England for two weeks now, Eli! You _have_ to be used to it by now!" Jay exclaimed, linking her arm into her sister's. Eli moved closer to her for the added body warmth – and gave a small _humph_ of disagreement with her eldest sister's statement.

"What, Jay? Getting used to being shoved in an assing freezer, buried in the centre of Antarctica in the middle of winter? No, haven't quite adjusted yet, sorry about that," she spat sarcastically, adjusting the strap of the black leather messenger bag hanging over her shoulder, a large white emblem stamped onto the surface. "Oh, and by the way, this uniform does shit all for the cold," she added, glaring down at her own appearance.

She had almost thrown out her uniform after her mother came home with it the day before. During the winter, the senior girls wore flat black leather shoes, Eli's with a cute little bow around her ankle, but they were almost invisible against the black stockings and black waist high pleated skirt that ended a few inches above the knees. Next came a long sleaved white satin blouse that tightened at the wrists, and flowed out pleasantly around the rest of the arm, with an inbuilt cravat just under the neckline. Eli had tied hers into a bow (she had a thing for bows). Senior students wore burgundy cardigans or jumpers over their blouses, and, depending on the weather and how cold it was, a nicely cut wool trench coat with large black buttons, the hem ending a little above the knees. The formal girl's hat was a little black cloche, which was often abandoned for a wool beanie.

Due to the cold, Eli was wearing her cardigan, coat, beanie, wool scarf and black leather gloves, and was still shivering violently. She found the uniform quite cute – but she knew full well that there wasn't a _chance_ she was going to be able to survive through the winter wearing _stockings_.

She was definitely a pants kind of girl.

Eli allowed herself to be pulled up towards the grand building, peering around at the extensive, perfectly manicured grounds, flocks of students clustered beneath leafless trees, staring back at her with curiosity.

_Yeah right_, she thought to herself, _they're probably staring at Jay_.

Jay was the perfect stereotype of an Australian girl. Tall, leggy, with clear skin still golden from the sunny beaches, thick yellow curls tied back from her beautiful, and a perfect face. She had a stunning smile, bright blue eyes, and a figure that looked like it _belonged_ in a bikini. She was something to be in awe of, a creature of beauty and grace.

Eli, on the other hand, was almost the exact opposite. Petit and quite slim, with cleanly defined lines and soft curves, she was almost unrecognisable compared to her gorgeous sister. Jay had inherited her mother's genes, the blue eyes, the blonde hair, the ability to tan, whilst Eli was pale, and burned with impossible ease. Where Jay had blonde hair that came close to being bushy with its glorious thickness, Eli's dark brown curls fell well past her shoulders were much thinner, much more… ordinary. Her eyes were large and dark, framed with long coal lashes beneath strong, arching eyebrows. They sparkled a veritable rainbow of shades, green, grey, burgundy and amber, her lips full and stained red, making her look unusual, occasionally even ill. It was well known that Jay was the beauty of the Bennett family.

_I would hate her for her looks_, Eli had often thought, _if she wasn't so bloody nice_. _It's a bit of an inconvenience_.

"Be on your best behaviour. Smile. Don't say a _word_," Francie ordered her daughters sternly as she continued up the front path to the huge, daunting building.

_What would possess someone to design a school like this? _Eli thought to herself. _It's all in one bloody building. What the HELL?_

Back in Australia, her schooling was, in the most part, conducted at the local high school, Port Stephens Public. Having spent her entire life in Port Stephens, a coastal district not far from Sydney, Eli saw no reason to pick up her life and shift it across continents. Particularly when said continent had an average daily temperature that not even liquid nitrogen could reach.

_This school is just a piece of highly polished crap_, she mused, _with about two dozen gardeners_.

She was then led shivering up the grand staircase to the front of the school by Jay and Francie, pulling her coat closer to her body, all rational thought leaving her mind, to be replaced simply with '_I hate England_'.

"Isn't this _exciting_? Oh, this place is so beautiful!" Jay whispered in her sister's ear, as she linked arms and gazed around the front hall in wonder. It was _huge_, like Harry Potter, with giant paintings and impressive statues scattered around, large mahogany doors scattered like sprinkles, a _colossal_ staircase leading upstairs, but it was to a little reception desk that Francie was leading her daughters, with her firm, iron grip.

They attracted a few glances and stares as the other students moved to their first classes for the term. They all wore the same Rosings Park uniforms, yet the majority had discarded their trench coats in favour of cardigans and jumpers, all of them having been forced to get used to the freezing temperatures and constant drizzly downpour from the miserable grey skies. They sent over inquisitive glances, peering over each other's shoulders to get a better look at the new students. Eli had the sudden image of a caged monkey in a zoo flash momentarily before her eyes.

"Good day," Francie began in her overly-sweet voice, stalking up to the front desk with a wide, plastered and painted grin. "I'm Mrs Francine Bennett, I have an appointment with Headmistress du Bourg concerning the enrolment of my two girls," she said, measuring her words out with precise care, as if they were teaspoons of _Equal_ in her coffee or the ounces of affection that she would give to her children and husband.

The miserable look receptionist peered at Francie behind black framed glasses, and nodded morosely.

"We've been expecting you," she said, in a despondent, clipped English accent. She pulled out two forms, and handed them to Francie. "You need to fill these out whilst you wait for the Headmistress to become available," she informed her. Francie gave another over-the-top smile, and pulled a pen out of her purse.

"Now go make friends until the Headmistress can see us," she hissed to her children, as before Eli rolled her eyes. She allowed Jay to link their arms and pull her away from the front desk, their footsteps echoed throughout the gigantic hall, blurred reflections of their own forms, walking in mirrored movements across the highly polished, dark granite floor.

"So? What do you think?" Jay questioned, as Eli tilted her head upwards to look at the pillars reaching up to the impossibly high ceiling.

"Ew."

"But it's so pretty!" Jay exclaimed in response. Eli shrugged, her eyes narrowed.

"I don't care. It's freezing here – everyone is staring at us, and more importantly, _it's not Australia_," she listed in a snappish, matter-of-fact tone.

"Eli, it's a _very_ good school, one of the best in England, particularly for the creative arts," Jay reminded her. She scoffed in response.

"Jay, I don't care if it's the best fucking school on the planet – I just want to go back to Australia," she replied pointedly.

"I'm sorry, but are you two the new Australian students?" a curious voice questioned from behind, cutting any response Jay had been preparing short. Eli turned to face two girls that she had never seen before.

"We're just starting today," Jay replied politely. The girls squealed in delight, and Eli stepped back in hesitation.

They looked to be about her age, if not a year or two older. The first was slender and petit, only an inch or so taller than Eli, with pale blonde hair falling in soft curls past her shoulders to be tied in a loose bun at the bottom of her neck, two curled locks falling on either side of her forehead, drawing out her big, well set eyes. They were the colour of ice, very pale, with only the slightest hint of blue within their depths. Unlike most blondes with such pale skin, her eyelashes were quite dark, and her well defined eyebrows were not as fair.

She was beautiful. As in, heart stopping, cover of _Vogue_, I-hate-you-you-gorgeous-bitch beautiful. She somehow made the Rosings Park uniform look like the most sophisticated new fashion coming straight out of Milan. She beamed at Eli and Jay with perfectly painted lips, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

The second girl wasn't as attractive, not by a long shot. But then again, Eli wondered if _anyone_ was as attractive as this slender angel, even _Jay_ paled in comparison. She wanted to feel intimidated by her, but there was something so pleasant about the girl's full red lips that made it impossible. The second girl was about as tall as Jay, with coarse, slightly frizzy raven hair and eyes of dark chocolate, but they were just a little too small for the rest of her face. She wasn't unattractive, only a little plain. There was nothing _wrong_ with her face, but there was nothing that you would look twice at either. She too smiled warmly at Jay and Eli, and the image of a monkey in a cage returned to the latter's mind's eye.

"Can you say 'put another shrimp on the barbie'?"

"Do you have pet kangaroos?"

"Can you surf? Why aren't you tanned?"

Eli was bristling slightly with irritation. _Where the hell did all the Australian stereotypes come from? _she thought. _Don't these people realise that we have a population of over twenty-two million people? That we use cars for transport? That not everyone in the country surfs, drinks VB from the back of a ute and hails for a passing wallaby to take them to the pub?_

"First of all – we call them prawns, not shrimp, and a barbie is a doll," she began pointedly. "That phrase doesn't even make sense. And kangaroos are vicious overgrown rodents that have no hesitation to scratch your eyes out, as cute as they are, and _yes_, I can surf, but not everyone can, and I'm not tanned like Jay is because I'm a genetic failure," she continued, with the tone of one weary of hearing the same question repeated over and over again.

"I just _love_ your accent," the blonde practically squealed. "But you don't talk like everyone says Australian's talk! It doesn't sound stupid at _all_!" she exclaimed.

"Kind of like… slowed down cockney and a bit of Northern European," the darker headed one mused, tapping her lips thoughtfully.

"Most stereotypes of Australians aren't true," Jay informed them politely, with a pleasant smile.

"But do you live right next to the beach?" the dark headed girl asked curiously.

"We used to," Eli admitted. "So that much is true. But we really aren't bogans, we hate cricket, we don't drink VB, and my Dad doesn't own a Ute," she explained. Their eyes widened at this information.

"I didn't think so, because they didn't do that sort of stuff on _Home and Away_," the dark haired one commented. Eli almost visibly winced. She had a very strong hatred for _Home and Away_, as did about two thirds of the Australian population.

"Would it be insulting to ask if you have a brother called Bruce and a sister called Cheryl?" the blonde asked curiously.

"You've seen _Finding Nemo_ too many times," Eli retorted. "We don't know anyone with those names. I'm Eli, and this is Jay," she informed her.

"Ee-lie? Is that short for Elijah? Is that not a boys name in Australia?" the blonde questioned with confusion.

"It's actually Elizabeth. But it's a vile name and I hate it."

"Jay is short for Jasmine – neither of us like our names," Jay added with a small smile.

"So why did you move to Australia? How come you're in England?" the blonde questioned inquisitively.

"Our Dad got a job here, I don't know why, but he just wanted to move," Eli answered. "But as soon as I'm eighteen, I'm going back to Australia – it's too _cold_ here," she muttered, hugging her coat tighter to her body.

"George went to Australia once, he said it was _lovely_," the blonde sighed happily.

"Who is George?" Jay inquired politely. "Your brother?"

"Sort of. His former step-brother is married to my sister. So he's my former-step-brother-in-law," she explained. "Oh! I'm Emilia Woodhouse, by the way," she informed the two.

"Charlotte Lucas," the dark headed girl added. "What form will you two be in?" she questioned. Eli shrugged.

"I'm not sure. I'll be turning sixteen in about a month, but I'm not sure where I'm supposed to be," she admitted. "Jay is in year thirteen, I think, which makes no sense to me," she added.

"Oh, you'll probably be in year eleven," Emma sighed. "That's a shame, Charlotte and I are in thirteenth," she explained. "But at least we get _one_ Australian!" she added cheerfully.

"Girls, who are your new friends?" Francie questioned, popping out of nowhere with a big, fake grin plastered across her face. She looked like a tiger, waiting to pounce.

"Mum, this is Emilia and Charlotte," Jay informed her, like the obedient daughter she was.

"_Such_ a pleasure, it's good that my girls are making friends already!" Francie said with delight, taking in the good grooming, and obviously wealth, of the girls. "I'm so sorry, but I have to tear them away now, we have a meeting with the Headmistress," she explained, placing hands on her daughter's backs with her fake nails digging into their spines. Eli almost jumped at the foreign contact.

"Good luck, the Headmistress is horrid," Charlotte whispered to them. Eli sighed.

"If I can handle this weather, I can handle a Headmistress," she replied with a wink, before they gave their goodbyes, and were led away.

"Good girls, you're making excellent friends already," Francie praised excitedly, leading Eli down a hallway, following the receptionist, who looked distinctively like she had swallowed a lemon.

Eli wasn't an idiot – her mother's primary motive in sending her daughters to such a prestigious, not to mention _expensive_ school was so that they could make rich connections. She had no true concern for her children's friends, just their bank balances.

"The Headmistress will see you now," the receptionist informed the trio, after peeking her head behind a large, mahogany door. Francie strode in, clutching her girls like they were prizes that she had won at the Royal Easter Show.

"Mrs Bennett, it is a pleasure to finally meet you," came a horribly commanding voice as they entered the large office. It was very, _very_ clean, with impressively large and expensive looking furniture; a wall filled with credentials behind what could only be assumed as the Headmistress of Rosings Park College. She stood as they entered, giving off immediately the feeling of extreme power with her overwhelming height. She was dressed sharply in a black skirt-suit, her dark hair with flecks of grey pulled back into a severe bun, her eyes cold and expressionless. "Please, sit down," she requested, however, her tone suggested more of an order than a request.

"Headmistress du Bourg, it's a pleasure," Francie crooned, as they took their seats in chairs pulled up to the desk. Eli sat uncomfortably. It was tall and hard, and the only way to sit without causing herself injury was right against the very back of the chair, so her feet didn't even touch the floor, dangling uncomfortably over the side. After a glare from Francie, she took off her beanie, a few strands of rich dark hair falling before her eyes.

"Now. Have you filled out the enrolment forms for your girls?" she questioned, staring at Francie, not even bothering to look at Jay or Eli, the latter of whom didn't like her almost immediately, but still knew that she needed to be silent, or it would be her head on the chopping board.

"I've filled out Jasmine's, and most of Elizabeth's, but there is the matter of Eli's year," she explained nervously, passing the woman the two enrolment forms, and a folder that she had in her oversized purse. Eli almost groaned.

_Oh joy_, she thought, _the manila folder. There goes any chance of being normal_.

"I have already been informed of the younger Miss Bennett's circumstances, Mrs Bennett," the woman said, taking the folder anyway, and sifting through it. "I saw both your girl's DVDs. We have offered full scholarships to the two of them," she added.

"Yes, Headmistress, and we're very grateful for that, however, the matter is a little more complicated than ­-" Francie began, but was cut off.

"I see," the Headmistress murmured, obviously finding the right report. She raised an eyebrow. "_A serious of Intelligence tests_ _undertaken over the course of Miss Elizabeth Bennett's life from age five to fifteen would suggest that she _–"

"Has an intelligence level measuring in the 'gifted' category. Yes, we've all heard it," Eli interrupted her, growing impatient. She had heard it a million times before – and knew quite well by that point that it wasn't as wonderful as one would think. In fact, in Eli's mind, it kind of sucked.

Dorr and Frances Bennett worked out quite early on that their youngest child was clever. By the time she was three she knew her alphabet and could count up to a hundred, at age four she was beginning to read and write, and by five she was reading a book a day. So that was when they took her to be tested – and when she first received her label. She didn't start school until she was eight years old, her father having tutored her from home, and even then she was in a class higher than others of her age group. When she started at high school, she had special tutelage from a University Professor, and completed her HSC equivalent with a combination of TAFE and in-school work.

"But clearly not clever enough to hold her tongue," the Headmistress sneered. Francie glared at Eli furiously, but the Headmistress had turned back to the folder, and was flicking through it intently.

"Miss Jasmine Bennett – you will be starting your final year here at Rosings Park. We have the best dance department in the country, so your talents will be encouraged and improved," she announced to Jay, taking a folder out from her desk, and handing it to her curtly. "This folder contains the Rosings Park College code of behaviour, your class schedule, a map of the premises, and an overview of the work you've missed," she informed her.

"Thank you, ma'am," Jay replied politely, accepting the folder with her usual submissive manner.

"Now Miss Elizabeth, I think it is best you begin year twelve today, and complete your A-levels next year. Perhaps you will need to share your music classes with the year above you – but I'm sure you will excel in your grades," she stated, looking over another folder she had pulled out. Her tone didn't suggest that she had any faith in Eli, it sounded like if she failed, she would be eaten alive.

"Sounds jolly good," Eli replied sarcastically, earning herself another glare from Francie, and a little _tut_ from the Headmistress.

"Headmistress du Bourg, I would like to thank you for the _wonderful_ opportunity you have given my girls. I can assure you that regardless of your excellent hospitality in giving them both scholarships, I would have gladly paid the school fees, just so they can have such a wonderful education," Francie began to croon. The Headmistress gave a little smirk, as if being flattered and fawned over was pleasing to her.

"I'm sure they will be valuable assets to the school, Mrs Bennett. Despite the younger one's manners – I've seen the videos of their performances," she stated, growing serious. "I'm quite certain that under correct guidance, they could both be stars in their fields. The elder Miss Bennett has extreme amounts of talent for the ballet, and the younger for music. I'm determined that the credit shall go to Rosings Park when they succeed," she continued, a great deal of self-pride in her tone. Eli felt Francie's angry glare upon her person, and swallowed her pride for a brief moment.

"I apologise for my manners, Headmistress, I'm still growing accustomed to the traditions of British society," she lied, barely disguising her sarcasm, but it seemed to pass over the woman's head. She nodded.

"That is much better, Miss Bennett. I shall be keeping my eye on you," she informed her. Eli said nothing, but could sense Jay's happiness at her compromise. "This folder contains all you should need. I'll have our Head Girl will show you around the school, your first classes will start after break. You may leave," she finished. Eli released a sigh of relief as she stood, and practically ran to the door.

"What a _splendid_ woman! You two have to be on your best behaviour around her – she's _incredibly_ rich, she could be useful to you," she advised them, pushing her girls through the hall. Eli pulled her beanie back on immediately. It was still so _cold_!

"This is so exciting," Jay whispered to her. She rolled her eyes.

"_Cold_, is the operative word, Jay," she hissed as a response, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. They were once again in the hall, before their mother stopped.

"Now, I'll pick you two up this afternoon at three-thirty, you _will_ behave, or else," she said sternly, giving Eli a quick glare.

"Bye, Francie," she said tiredly. Francie scowled, threw her scarf over her shoulder, and disappeared out the front doors. Eli shivered, and looked around the hall miserably. "What do we do now?" she questioned in confusion.

"_You_ must be the Australians then."

**A/N: Well, I guess you all remember what to do! :D Oh, and can I apologise now, because I don't know a huge amount about English school systems, so my information might be a little bit out… :D**


	2. Hello Sailor

"_I don't know you, _

_But I want you_

_All the more for that_

_Words fall through me,_

_Always use me,_

_And I can't react"_

-Glen Hansard, 'Falling Slowly'

**A/N: See those lyrics up there? ^^^ Yeah, the idea is in no way original, because tons of FF writers put them up there, but the songs will all have relevance to the individual chapters. Sometimes it's very important, sometimes whatever I was listening to when I wrote it. And now, read on, my pretties!**

"_You_ must be the Australians then," a voice came from behind. Eli turned; to see what she could only assume was the head girl. She was tall and stick thin, with perfectly styled short scarlet hair (clearly died) and sharp blue eyes. Her skirt was quite short, her jumper quite tight, and she was wearing far too much makeup, but she could have been pretty. If she didn't look so bitchy.

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Jay, and this is my sister, Eli," Jay said politely, walking up to the girl. She smiled in her usual dazzling manner, as the girl raised an eyebrow.

"You don't talk like I expected you too," she announced. Eli snorted sarcastically upon hearing her remark.

"Yeah, well you aren't sipping tea and eating scones, like I expected _you_ to," she snapped pointedly, walking forwards. The girl evaluated her with her keen blue eyes, and sniffed petulantly. "Are you the Head Girl?" she inquired.

"Of course I am, I'm Clare Bingley. This is _my_ school," she replied severely.

"Clearly your psychiatrist hasn't covered delusion in your sessions yet. But you're supposed to be showing us around."

The girl, Clare, scowled, and then looked over to Jay, and smiled.

"I think we'll be the _best_ of friends, Jay," she said, linking arms, and beginning to walk towards one of the many doors in the front entrance, leaving Eli to toddle behind in silence. She wasn't objecting, it just put her 'Bitch-count' at Rosings Park up to two.

She was quite sure that she wasn't as bitchy before she came to England. She suspected it was something to do with the cold. She had been very comfortable in Australia, but England, as she had discovered _very_ quickly, was a whole other ballpark. Everything was different. Everyone was miserable. _She_ was miserable.

She trailed behind the pair as Clare showed Jay around the school – whilst being completely ignored, of course. Clare pointed out the cafeteria, the hall, where assemblies and church services were held each week (but for which religion, Eli couldn't be sure), and then to the gym.

"Each senior has to pick a sport. I picked dance," Clare informed Jay with proudly, as they walked into the stadium-sized gym.

"I do dance too," Jay replied, with a becoming smile. Eli snorted in the background. Jay did more than just _dance_, she _lived_ dance. She was the most amazing dancer _ever_, full stop. She silenced her sister with a look, knowing that praises of her skill were soon to come. Eli bit back cries of her sister's brilliance.

"_You_ have to pick a sport too," Clare snapped to her. Eli blinked in surprise. She had _actually_ acknowledged her presence.

"I came third in the national dwarf throwing competition last year. Do you guys have a team?"

Clare scoffed.

"Is that some sort of Australian attempt at humour?" she questioned coolly, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, well I'm pretty sure you guys don't have a surfing squad around here, so my choices are limited," she snapped in return.

"Well you'll just have to pick something else," she replied curtly.

"Well, I don't _know_ anything else!" Eli responded with irritation. She was furious with the way this 'Clare' was treating her. Like she were scum beneath her Christian Louboutin shoes.

"Well then, you'll have to _learn_ something," she said curtly, gripping Jay's arm once again. "Come on Jay, I'll show you the dance studios. There's a list of sports on the noticeboard over there. Pick one," she added, sending a quiet glare to Eli, whilst Clare tore Jay away to one of the many rooms off the gym.

Eli practically growled in irritation, and looked around the gym. It was filled with all sorts of equipment, and a group of eleven year olds running up and down the length of the room. She spied a large noticeboard and moved towards it. On one side was a list of all the sports offered by the school. She scanned its contents. She didn't even know what half of the sports _were_.

"Need some help?" a voice came from behind. She turned.

"I – uh, I really don't know," she admitted. The man was reasonably tall, with dark blonde hair that fell past his collar and almost covered his warm, golden-amber coloured eyes. He looked tired, but had a pleasant smile on his admittedly rather handsome face. Eli noticed that he wasn't wearing a uniform, and had one of the little name badges that she had seen a few teachers around the school wearing.

"Ah. You must be one of the new girls," he acknowledged, realising Eli's accent. He stepped towards the noticeboard, and was pinning some sort of form up. "Why aren't you being shown around the school?" he questioned, with a slight frown.

"My tour guide preferred my sister. She's got more potential for popularity," she explained, with a small laugh. He chuckled in response.

"Then… you must be Elizabeth," he stated.

"Uh… is my description out on the radio now?" she questioned with confusion. He gave another small laugh.

"No, but all your teachers were just informed of your… intelligence. The wit sort of gave it away," he explained carefully. Eli scowled.

"Right. So the Headmistress decided to tell everyone my IQ," she practically snapped. He raised his eyebrows slightly.

"It's important for teachers to be aware of any gifts or difficulties any student would have. It's hardly an insult," he explained. Eli still frowned, but turned back to the noticeboard.

"It's a label. And I'd prefer if you didn't mention it to anyone else," she muttered. He didn't say anything for a moment.

"If you wish," he said finally. "But I'm curious as to why someone with your levels of intelligence would be looking at a notice-board with so much confusion," he added, Eli catching a slight a laugh in his voice.

"I have to pick a sport. And I've never heard of most of these," she explained. "I mean, what the hell is spelunking? And _how_ is horse riding even a sport? It's the horse that gets exercise, not the rider. And what exactly is involved in '_hunting_'?" she questioned. He laughed.

"Come now, you should know this," he replied. Eli sent him a short glare. She hated it when people expected me to know everything.

"I only learn what I have an interest in. As it is, I have no interest in shooting helpless animals, or in… croquet," she stated, staring frowningly at some of the listed sports.

"Well, what sport did you do in Australia?" he questioned curiously.

"A combination of Wii Fit and surfing. My school was two minutes from the beach. And I'm very lazy."

"This must be very different for you," he acknowledged. She shrugged.

"I'll leave when I can. But this little change of scenery has already put me two years behind in my education," she answered bitterly.

"Which is still probably another year ahead of everyone else," he added, with a small grin. Eli gave another shrug.

"So. You're a teacher," she stated, changing the subject.

"That I am. I teach music, that's why I was specifically given a rundown of your talents," he answered pleasantly. "In fact – I've got your DVD right here, I was just about to go and watch your performances," he stated with a small smile, pulling something out of his briefcase.

"I think I'll do gymnastics. I used to do a bit last year," she decided finally, ignoring his statement. "Just as long as I don't have to wear a leotard, I think I'll be able to manage," she added, stepping back.

"I'm sure you'll be able to tackle what gets thrown at you," he assured her. Eli rolled her eyes.

"I'm having slight difficulty dealing with the sub-zero temperatures, but I'm sure I'll bounce back from that, too," she said in a teasing voice. He laughed.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Elizabeth," he said warmly.

"It's Eli," she corrected him firmly. A small flicker of a grin danced over his lips for a moment.

"I'll try to remember that," he assured her, before turning, and leaving the gym.

She was angry at him – even though he seemed quite nice. She was angry with him, because he was going to treat her differently because of a few intelligence reports. But seemingly that was always the way it went. But something about his personality eased her temper. She hoped he would be her teacher.

"Hurry up then! Let's get this tour over with!" Clare screeched, stepping back into the gym, Jay held tightly on her arm.

Eli followed her again in silence, trying to take note of all the classrooms. She had to admit, the school had _really_ amazing resources. The music rooms were top of the line – she couldn't wait to start her classes. Well, her _music _classes, at least. She ignored most of the classrooms that she wouldn't be using, maths, science, geography; instead she was interested in history and languages. She never had any passion for maths or science, always receiving good marks in both those subjects, but still hating them both. Besides, she had been forced to gain her HSC equivalent in those unpleasant subjects the year before.

Eli followed dutifully behind the pair as Clare led them to the senior student lounge where she was determined to introduce them to some of her 'friends' after the bell for break had gone. Eli paid no attention to Clare's ramblings. She reminded her of her mother, to be perfectly honest. Eli frowned at her timetable as they ascended the stairs. She couldn't remember where _any_ of her class rooms were, even after Clare had pointed them out.

"Are you even a senior?" she snapped at Eli, when she made a move to follow her and Jay into the student lounge.

"NS, Sherlock," she threw back in response. Clare frowned, like she had smelt a foul odour, and turned back into the room, once more latching onto Jay. Eli rolled her eyes, and followed her in.

She looked around curiously. It was actually quite a nice area. It was a large room, with a small kitchen, desks and chairs for study, lounges and armchairs for relaxing, and even a fireplace. There were several students sitting around already, most were just relaxing with a cup of coffee or something of the like, a few with books, several sitting on the couches, talking.

"Eli! Jay!" she heard a cry. She turned; it was Emilia and Charlotte, the girls she had met earlier. She smiled at them.

"Hey. Guess what? I'm in year twelve," she said with a grin as they approached. They beamed.

"Excellent! That's really good, so now we can share the student lounge with you!" Emilia acknowledged. Eli glanced after Jay; she was helplessly being practically eaten alive by Clare and the rest of her 'possie'.

"Do you know that Clare girl?" she questioned curiously. Charlotte scoffed.

"_Everyone_ knows Clare," she informed her. "She considers herself the queen of the school, just because she's Head Girl. Emilia got offered the job before she did though, but she didn't want it," she explained. Emilia shrugged.

"George teased me about it for _days_, I figured it wasn't worth it," she explained. "Clare and I aren't that fond of each other, but we have a lot of mutual friends. Most of the time we just ignore each other," she continued.

"Ah. I admire that – because I don't have the strength to ignore her," Eli replied. "I'd rather run her over," she added thoughtfully.

"Yeah, she has that quality about her," Charlotte laughed, her eyes twinkling. "She's like some sort of Princess around here. She's rich, attractive, a triple performing threat, and connected to the hilt," she began. "The teachers are scared of her – so they mostly let her get her way. She controls almost _everything_ about this school," she explained.

"Except Darcy," mused Emilia, with a small, laughing smile.

"Darcy? Who's she?" Eli questioned curiously, wondering if this 'Darcy' girl was going to be someone worth knowing. If she couldn't be controlled by Clare Bingley, then the chances were that she _was_.

"_He_," corrected Charlotte, with a tiny chuckle. "The most gorgeous guy in school. Clare's been in love with him since he came to Rosings Park, but he's untouchable. He's _never_ been interested in one of the girls at this school, we're all pretty sure he has a girlfriend that goes somewhere else," she explained, sounding somewhat disappointed.

"Is he some sort of man-wench?" Eli questioned.

"_Man-wench_? I love that!" Emilia laughed. Eli rolled her dark eyes.

"It's a term that my friends back in Australia and I used to refer to whores of the male persuasion," she explained.

"I'm going to use that," Emilia chuckled. "But no, he's not. He barely looks twice at all the girls in this school," she explained.

"He's really loyal to his girlfriend. I've never met her, and he doesn't talk about her, but its common knowledge that they're going to get married when she's old enough," Charlotte threw in.

"Well it's not _common _knowledge, we don't even know if he has a girlfriend," Emilia pointed out. Charlotte rolled her eyes.

"We're all ninety-nine point nine percent sure that he _does_," she informed Eli.

"Ah. And Clare doesn't like this?"

"Not at _all_," Charlotte replied. "But forget about her, she only makes your head hurt if you think of her for too long. So how do you like the school so far?" she questioned. Eli looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Honestly? It's too big, and _way_ too fancy," she admitted.

"You get used to it," Emilia assured her. "Come on then, we'll give you the run-down on your teachers before you go to class," she said, taking Eli's arm, and leading her to the couches, were the group of girls that had kidnapped Jay were flocking. She sat down, allowing the warmth coming from the fireplace to surround her.

"Are you the other Australian?" one girl from Clare's group questioned her. She was tall, with a long flowing mane of almost black hair, and a sharply jutting jaw.

"Yeah. I'm Eli," she replied. The girl looked Eli up and down slowly.

"Are you sure that you're related to Jay?" she questioned, upon finishing her evaluation.

"Well, we were only raised together in the same house all our lives by the same parents," she replied sarcastically. The girl flicked her eyes over Eli once more, before turning her gaze back to Jay.

"You and Jay look _really_ different," another girl said. She looked rather similar to Clare, but her hair was blonde, and cut differently. She was also a bit plumper, and a bit plainer.

"Genetics can be a bitch like that."

"Australians don't talk as weirdly as they do on telly," one of the other girls acknowledged.

"Funny, that," Eli muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.

"Ignore them. Can I have your timetable?" Charlotte requested. Eli passed it over to her, before she and Emilia started to peer over it.

"You've got a lot of good teachers," Emilia informed her. "Oh! You got Professor Llewellyn! You'll love him, he's definitely the best," she assured her. Eli raised an eyebrow.

"What does he teach?" she questioned, leaning over their shoulders to glance at her timetable.

"Music. He's a genius, and almost every single girl in the school has a crush on him," she explained.

"Uh… let me guess, tall, dark blonde hair, amber eyes, kind of like a walking, talking, younger and better dressed version of Remus Lupin?" Eli suggested.

"That's him," she laughed. "He's really nice. Have you met him?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah, in the gym earlier. He seemed to be alright," she shrugged.

"Well he's _really_ good. He's been friends with my family for _ages_, I'm trying to set him up with another friend of the family, but he keeps on insisting that his heart belongs only to music," she replied, her pale eyes twinkling. Eli was about to comment that she felt exactly the same way, before a loud screech, sounding distinctively _Clare_-like cut through her reply.

"Oh look! Jay, there's my brother, and Darcy!" she cried. All the girls suddenly seemed to swoon as they directed their gazes over to the doorway. Even Charlotte looked, but Emilia seemed much more occupied with her new friend's timetable.

"Jesus, Clare – it's not like you see me everyday," a light and pleasing, if not somewhat annoyed, voice replied. Eli turned her head to see the intruders. The one who had spoken was approaching the couches, several of the girls from Clare's group sighing audibly. He _was_ pretty cute, with slightly messy blonde hair and bright blue eyes sparkling nicely. He had a very nice face, and a very lovely smile. His eyes stopped on Jay however – and she blushed to the tips of her toes when his smile grew.

"Jay, this is my brother Char. He, Celosia and I are triplets," Clare explained quickly. "Char, this is Jay. She's from _Australia_," she boasted, practically thrusting Jay forwards as if she were a piece of highly coveted art.

"I'm pleased to meet you," he said warmly, his smile continuing to grow. Jay blushed.

"And that's Darcy. He's a very _close _family friend," Clare added, pointing to the other guy that had come in with Char.

He was rather tall, and looked to be at _least_ eighteen years old. Eli had to agree with what Charlotte had said before.

He was very attractive, about ten times more than Char, the complete epitome of 'tall, dark and handsome'. He had fantastic bone structure that Cillian Murphy would have envied, a strong jaw and cheekbones, giving him a sort of noble, even _beautiful_ look. His dark brown hair was reasonably long, falling about his face in a slight curl, forming a sort of 'accidental emo' look that lent something very appealing to his face. He had a perfectly straight nose and dark eyebrows that were neither too thin nor too thick, but it was his eyes that really made him a stunning example of the human race. A pale, almost milky blue, with the slightest hints of violet and silver.

He was utterly beautiful, in the same manner that Emilia was. Somehow, even though he wore the same uniform as all of the other boys, he made it look _hot_, just like how Emilia made it look elegant. She took him in inch my inch, his expensive black leather loafers, his pants, which were just a _little_ tighter over his long legs than others, his burgundy cardigan sitting perfectly across his torso, a long scarf wound carelessly around his neck. He was some sort of indie (possibly emo) teenage God.

"Jay is in our year. She used to live in… where was it? Port Steve?" Clare questioned, turning back to Jay. Eli snapped out of her daze, and turned away from the guy.

"Port Stephens," she corrected her, with a small smile. "Eli and I just moved here a few weeks ago. This is our first day at an English school," she explained, nodding towards her sister. All eyes turned to Eli's direction, including those of the dark haired boy, Darcy, they said he was called. She hesitated to call him a boy, but didn't know if she should quite call him a man, even in her mind. It just seemed a strange thing to do so for someone so close to her age. His stare tore right through her as he took in her appearance slowly, his pale eyes moving up and down her form, before meeting hers. She tried to look away, but she found she couldn't.

He was no boy.

"Oh yeah. I forgot about her," Clare sniffed, glancing at Eli with irritation. "She's in the year below. The Headmistress asked me to show them around," she explained, as if apologising.

"Eli? That's a nice name," Char smiled politely. She shrugged, and grinned slightly in return.

"I like it enough," she replied, unable to think of anything better to say. _His_ gaze was making her uneasy.

"Well, Eli, I'm Char, and this is Darcy. We're in thirteenth," he greeted. "Mind if we sit down?" he questioned, pointing at the place beside her.

"It's a free country," she replied, shifting over slightly. "Oh – wait. Is it?" she questioned suddenly, frowning. "You have a Queen, right? Does that mean… oh, snap. I have no idea if that term applies in England," she muttered.

"If, by the token that having a Queen means England isn't free, then the same idea could be applied to Australia. You're still a part of the British Empire, so _our_ Queen is _your_ Queen," a deep baritone stated suddenly. Eli glanced over to _him_. He was staring at her severely, his head lowered slightly, but his intense eyes found her through the wisps of his dark hair.

"I hate to be the one to tell you – but most Australians don't acknowledge that. The Queen has very little to do with the way our government is run, in fact, her appointed representative has only really stepped into the running of the country for one major event," she stated. "And a great deal of Australia is still very bitter over the Whitlam dismissal, not to mention the Stolen Generation and the attempted genocide of Aboriginals, so I wouldn't advise you bring it up again. We don't have the best view of England, not after all that's occurred," she replied coolly. Char gave a low, appreciative whistle.

"Woah! She knows her stuff, this one," he laughed, sitting down on the couch beside her. His friend sat on the empty armchair, still within easy view of Eli's position.

"Eli is _really_ smart," Jay said. Eli sent her a warning glance. She silenced herself out of habit. Eli felt _his_ – Darcy's – eyes on her person once more. He looked like he had noted the glances between Jay and her sister.

"So is Australia really different to England?" Charlotte questioned curiously. Jay shrugged.

"It's warm," Eli stated. Most people laughed. "I guess it's not in a lot of ways, but everyone talks so differently here, and the weather _sucks_, and there's much more of a class distinction here," she explained. "Australia is quite laid back. I feel like a lot of the British don't know how to relax," she continued.

"What do you mean, 'class distinction'?" Clare asked, suddenly forgetting her initial dislike of Eli, who shrugged in response.

"Well _here_ you have middle class and lower class and upper class and all of that, old families and old money, that sort of thing," she began. "But Australia is a new country. We don't _have_ that, you either have money or you don't, you either live in a nice area or you don't, people don't care who your parents were or what background they had, not like England," she explained. Clare grinned smugly.

"I guess England is just superior that way then," she stated.

"Not necessarily, Clare," Emilia pointed out, still looking over Eli's timetable. Clare scowled at her.

"Do you miss Australia?" Char asked Eli suddenly. She smiled nostalgically.

"More that I ever expected."

"I guess I do too," Jay shrugged. "But I like England as well," she added.

"What was your old school like?" he asked her. She looked thoughtful.

"It wasn't this big, and we had all our subjects in different buildings. It was much calmer," she answered.

"_Better_, is the operative word," Eli muttered. Char laughed.

"Give it a shot. I'm sure you'll like it," he chuckled. She blushed slightly at being heard, but he took it as a reassurance that she _would_ try to like it.

"They messed up your timetable," Emilia announced suddenly, pointing to a few boxes. "You're doing the music course for the year above you, and twice a week the same thing happens with your English," she pointed out. Eli's blush rose slightly in colour.

"Uh, that's not a mistake. It's a… thing," she muttered quietly to her. Emilia raised her eyes to Eli's, and presumably saw a wish for silence. Eli was quite certain that this 'Emilia' was one smart cookie.

"What kind of 'thing' is that?" Charlotte asked suddenly, taking the timetable from Emilia's hands quickly.

"I – please, don't worry about it," Eli requested suddenly, as she started to read it with interest.

"Woah. You're doing a few hard classes. You must be smart," she commented.

"Charlotte, I think you should give Eli back her timetable," Emilia said wisely. Charlotte met Eli's eyes. Eli gave her a silent apology, but made it clear that she didn't wish for it to happen again.

"Are you some sort of child-genius?" one girl from Clare's side of the group asked suddenly.

"Is that why you're doing year thirteen classes?" the blonde girl who Eli was quite certain was called 'Celosia' questioned.

"It's just something to do with the way she changed schools, guys," Emilia announced suddenly. "That happened to me when I used to go to boarding school in Paris. My classes were weird for my first term back in England," she explained. This seemed to satisfy everyone's curiosities.

Eli mouthed 'thank you' to Emilia, who smiled in reply. She was quite certain that they were going to get along very well.

But Eli could still feel a tingling sense that she was being watched. She glanced over to Darcy, and sure enough, his pale eyes were driving into hers. He looked like he was… angry. She didn't really get it.

She didn't say much for the rest of the break. Because after she had come so close to being discovered – she _knew_ that she couldn't risk her chances and attract attention to herself again. Her last school was hell because of her label – she wasn't going to put herself through that again.

The bell sounded suddenly, and everyone got up to leave for their classes. Emilia declared that she would help Eli find her Iconography class, and took her by the arm, leading her out of the room.

"So. Why am I covering for you?" she questioned, pulling her into a corner of the corridor, when there was no one in earshot. Eli lightly chewed on her bottom lip.

"Promise not to think weirdly about me?" she requested, and Emilia nodded firmly. "I – I have a special learning… advantage," she stated slowly.

"And is that why you're a year ahead of the others your age, even though you've changed countries, and would normally be a year _behind_?" she questioned pointedly. Eli sighed.

"The thing is, I don't even _need_ to be going to school. I already have my HSC equivalent, which is the Australian high school graduation thing, I could start University if I wanted to," she began slowly. "And I _did_ want to. But... Well, it's hard to explain, but I'm apparently not 'emotionally' mature enough to start at Uni, and I don't have the experience necessary," she continued.

"Uh-huh. How did you do that?" she questioned, her tone not doubtful, but curious. Eli shrugged.

"I skipped a bit of school, and did my certificate through TAFE when I was fifteen, it's this… pathways thing that allows people to get certificates and diplomas," she explained. "Sort of like community college. I did it in one year, instead of two, whilst I was doing my School Certificate, which is another Australian thing, at school," she continued. "It's not really that amazing. A lot of people have done it, but mostly for different reasons," she muttered finally.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. But you're avoiding the question," Emilia stated, her pale eyes dancing knowingly.

"I… have a high IQ," she stated quietly, after sighing. "It doesn't mean much, really, because IQ tests are an inaccurate way to measure a person's intelligence, but… there you have it. And the reason why I'm in school is because I'm not mature enough for University, so… my parents thought it best that I just be a normal kid. School seems to be my only option until they think I can emotionally handle Uni," she explained slowly. Emilia nodded.

"And you don't want people to be threatened by you?" she questioned. Eli gave another short nod of affirmation.

"Listen, I've had to put up with this all my life. _Please_ don't tell anyone – they'll probably find out soon enough, but just for a little while, I want to be a normal student," she practically begged her. "Think of it as a super-power. Only, it doesn't let you help others, just causes problems for you and those around you. A super-power that you don't even think you have, let along deserve," she continued nervously. Emilia smiled.

"I'm fine with that," she replied, squeezing Eli's hand in hers. "You're pretty modest about it, you know," she added. Eli snorted.

"Uh… I'm not, really," she replied. "I just don't give a damn about what others think of me. This is a matter of convenience to me, not modesty," she added. Emilia nodded, and gave her a small smile.

"Your secret is safe with me. And don't worry; I'm a year younger too. It just sucks for you that intelligence is a curse," she said. Eli felt herself smile. She knew there and then that she and Emilia were going to be very good friends, for a very long time.

"Thanks. Oh – and can you show me where my Iconography class is? Because I really have _no_ idea," she requested finally, and the two broke into laughter.

Emilia gave Eli a small hug after leaving her standing outside of her classroom.

She took a deep breath, and pushed open the door.

**A/N: As always, please review! I luuuuuurve reviews :D Tell me what you think of this story, I'd love to hear it :D**


	3. Music and Other Masters

"_Poetry has no place for a heartless whore_

_And I'm young and I'm strong,_

_But I feel old and tired, over fired…_

_And I've been poked and stoked_

_There's no more fire, only desire,_

_For you whoever you are_

_For you whoever you are_"

-Martha Wainwright, 'Bloody Mother-Fucking Asshole'

**A/N: Wow. This author's note is actually IMPORTANT. Due to a copyright issue, the name 'A Fine Frenzy' will no longer be the title of this story. I apologise for any inconvenience, and ask you to take note that any external links that have been put out on this story (sometimes other Jane Austen websites link back to my stories, and I'm very grateful for that, but unfortunately considering I'm underage and can't join a lot of those websites, I can't inform people myself) will probably not work. I'm sorry. And I hope there isn't too much confusion, but I need to be respectful to the copyright and of the company. So, yeah… soz…**

At the sound of the break bell, Emilia and Charlotte bombarded Eli outside of her Modern History class, filled with questions on how she had enjoyed her first set of lessons. They chatted as they got their lunch and were soon up in the student lounge, sitting on the floor behind some couches, soaking in the warmth from the fireplace. Emilia said it was her favourite place to sit, because the couches were normally taken anyway by those students who chose not to eat in the cafeteria, and it was both warm _and_ private. Eli couldn't help but agree with her, even though there was hardly anyone in the lounge at that point. She assumed most of them were being held back in their classes for the usual start-of-term speeches that teachers always delivered.

She was just about to ask what Charlotte and Emilia did for sport when they heard the familiar sound of Char's voice as he entered the room. Eli don't know why she didn't just continue speaking, but part of her wanted to know what he thought of Jay, even though she couldn't guarantee he was even _talking_ about her.

"I can't believe you didn't think she was attractive," he said in exasperation.

"I didn't say that," a deep, velvety baritone replied. Eli shivered slightly, and cursed herself for her involuntary reaction. It was _him_. "She's very pretty. Beautiful, even. But I'm just not that into blondes," he continued. Eli grinned slightly when she realised that he must be talking about Jay.

"I _know_ that, it's why Clare died her hair that awful shade of rust," Char replied. "But she was _gorgeous_. I mean, I thought all of those stereotypes about Australian girls being beautiful tanned blondes were _just_ stereotypes, but she really is perfect!" he exclaimed.

"She seemed pleasant enough," Darcy conceded.

"You were looking at her sister, Eli, a fair bit," Char pointed out. Eli heard Charlotte and Emilia squeal slightly in excitement, and she indeed bit her lip slightly.

"I won't deny it," he replied stiffly. Charlotte gripped Eli's arm tightly in anticipation.

"Well?"

"Well _what_, Charmont?" he snapped in response. Eli had to cover her mouth to stop herself from laughing. She had never been fond of 'Elizabeth', but 'Charmont' was just hilarious.

"Don't you _dare_ use _that_ name," he practically growled. "And stop trying to be all funny. What did you think of her?" he questioned. "Personally, I couldn't really take my eyes off her sister, but she's very… she has some sort of classic thing about her. Not that sort of 'traditional' beauty," he began.

"Your little 'Jay' is what would be defined as 'traditional'," Darcy sniffed in response.

"Well _I_ thought she kind of looked a little like those film stars from years and years ago. She looked… well, I can't really put a word to it. She's very pretty, she reminded me of that girl from that movie… Scarlet something. And that other girl – in the Pirates of the Caribbean. I have _no_ idea what her heritage is. But I still can't put her in a category," Char muttered.

"Thankfully I can," Darcy said impatiently. "She's pretty, I admit, but not pretty enough for me. She's one of those nasty weeds that grow in the garden – the flowers are tolerable enough, but they only cause problems," he snapped finally.

"Darce, that was a bit harsh."

"She's nothing, Char, just some foreign slip of a thing."

"She seemed smart, I think you two would get along, if you just got over yourself a little," Char tried to reason.

"Fantastic. Have you been spending too much time around Emilia?" he said crossly. "I'm _not interested_. Girls like her are in a never-ending supply. She's just another cheap imitation, just like every other girl in that room. I could barely tell them all apart," he snapped.

"Fine, you want to be weird about this? That's cool with me," Char replied finally, sounding tired of arguing. "But hold your tongue around her. She's likely to bite back. I'm going to go and try and find Jay – perhaps you had best go cool down or something," he muttered finally. Eli heard the sounds of him leaving the room, and she could _feel_, rather than see Darcy follow him.

Charlotte and Emilia simultaneously let out a long breath they had been holding in.

"Woah," Charlotte muttered finally. "I don't think I've ever heard Darcy say that much at once," she commented.

"Don't worry about him, Eli, he's… well, not many people get him," Emilia assured her.

"I have the number of a good psychiatrist that might," she replied, her voice slightly teasing. They laughed in response, perhaps a little _too_ enthusiastically, pleased that she wasn't upset. "Jeez, what on _earth_ is up his behind? The aliens forget to remove their anal probe or something?" she questioned incredulously.

"Darcy is the richest, smartest, hottest, and most talented boy in school. He's got old money that goes back hundreds of years, he's the top of _all_ of his classes, he looks like a freakin' God, and he's the most talented musician that you could _ever_ find," Charlotte stated. "But he's also really… well, I guess standoffish. He's hard to impress," she continued.

"What did he mean, that Char was 'spending too much time around Emilia?" she questioned suddenly. Emilia laughed.

"Oh, I like to play matchmaker," she admitted. "I'm very good at it. Hardly any break ups," she boasted proudly.

"Could you set up Char and Jay? He looked like he likes her," she said, a grin forming on her face, and an idea forming in her mind.

"He doesn't need my help, if Char likes a girl, he'll go after her by himself," she replied, popping a chip into her mouth from her laden lunch tray. "I don't like to play God. All I do is help people realise what they wouldn't have without a little push. I'm not cupid," she clarified.

"And don't worry about Darcy. He may rich, gorgeous, clever and talented, but guys like that turn up all the time," Charlotte reasoned teasingly. Eli rolled her eyes.

"And apparently girls like me, too," she commented, her dark eyes twinkling. "I don't really care what he said, to be honest. I mean, we already know that he has a girlfriend," she replied. "But every time he comes near me, I'm going to make a million gardening references from now on," she laughed.

She didn't want to admit that his words had hurt, because they _had_, it was unavoidable that they would at least bruise her. But she never put too much stock in the opinions of others. So whilst he had injured her slightly, she wasn't going to worry about it. It didn't bother her that much. She wasn't in England to meet boys, so he wouldn't gain the benefit of her time. She resolved to dislike him then and there.

After lunch, she had a double music with the upper sixth formers. She had been waiting for it since she got her timetable that morning – and was filled with nervous energy. Charlotte and Emilia kindly veered her back in the direction of the music rooms, and she bravely pushed open the door, stepping into her classroom.

She looked around. It was _beautiful_. A large room filled with instruments of every kind, tables, chairs, couches, it was heaven. There were a few people staring at her curiously as she walked in, but she tried to ignore their gazes. She spotted Clare and her dark haired companion glaring at her from the corner. She ignored their looks and sat down, waiting for the teacher, practically tingling with anticipation.

Or was that another kind of tingling, she thought? She felt someone's eyes upon her person, and looked up to see the now familiar – or at least haunting – face of the mysterious and rude Darcy. He was openly staring at her, his arms folded across his chest from across the room. He was frowning. She vaguely wondered if she had anything on her face.

"Right! First lesson, term two!" a booming voice announced. Eli looked to the door; the teacher she had met in the gym, Professor Llewellyn, was entering the room, holding a briefcase with several badges from various bands and musicals on its surface. The students that had been standing took their seats, and patiently waited for him to settle into the classroom. "I trust you all had a good holiday?" he questioned. There was a vague murmur of agreement amongst the students. "Well, thanks for at least trying to respond," he teased. "We have a new student joining our midst today – Elizabeth Bennett is normally in lower sixth form, but will be joining us for music. She's one of the Australian students that started today," he informed the class.

Eli felt even more stares on her as she shifted nervously.

Llewellyn didn't seem to notice, however, and began with his lesson. It appeared that they were working on musical theatre productions, and had picked several songs to work on last term. They would be performed as medley pieces at an assessment the next term in front of the school, in conjunction with that year's musical production.

"So, Eli, I'm well aware of everyone else's strengths in this class," Llewellyn began, his rich amber eyes meeting hers. "So why don't you tell the rest of the class a bit about your musical interests and skills, okay?" he suggested. Eli wanted to punch him. _Can't he see that I don't want to draw attention to myself_, she thought?

"Well… I play the piano, the guitar, and I sing," she stated slowly. "I've had an interest in music ever since I was a kid. I like almost every kind of genre – except a lot of RnB, rap, hip-hop, and some country and western. I don't mind some of the older, original stuff though," she continued.

"Well, considering this term's topic, do you have a favourite musical?" he questioned curiously. Eli grinned.

"Anything by Andrew Lloyd Webber – but if I had to pick one, it would _definitely_ be _The Phantom of the Opera_," she answered almost instantly. He raised an eyebrow, and chuckled.

"Yes, you seem like a bit of a Webber fan," he replied, his eyes twinkling cheekily. He made Eli feel at ease in the room, like the other student's _weren't_ death-staring her from their tables, like she _wasn't_ a caged monkey placed on display. "That's quite funny, actually, because this year's musical is going to be just that. We'll be practising one or two of the pieces from it, but perhaps you should go for an audition. In the meantime, you could sing the version of '_Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again'_ that we intended on doing as a class," he suggested.

"_Sir_! I thought _I_ was going to do _The Phantom_!"

"Clare, you already have something to perform. And besides – the auditions haven't begun for the musical yet. I'm just suggesting that Eli take the song in class," he reminded the petulant redhead patiently. She scowled angrily, her face twisting into a hideous parody of what she once was.

"But she's not even an upper sixth," she snapped coolly. "And how the hell could she handle _The Phantom_? I've had proper training – it's not fair!" she whined.

"Clare, we have several singers in this class, we need to give them _all_ a go. The musical is unrelated – it won't hurt your chances of auditioning if she performs the piece in class," he said sternly. She threw her bottom lip out and whimpered. "Clare, you're already doing the entire _Disney_ medley, it won't hurt to let Eli have a chance," he continued, growing angered at her pout.

"But _sir_!" she objected miserably. Llewellyn raised his hand, his warm eyes turning stern, ending her appeals.

"No, Clare. Eli will sing _Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again_, and that's final," he said firmly, crossing the room to his desk, and pulling some sheet music from his folder.

"But you can't just give it to her! She needs to do some sort of audition!" screeched Clare. Llewellyn sent her a warning glare, and an apologetic glance to Eli.

"Clare, this is just the class performance. Not the musical," he reminded her with slight impatience.

"It's only fair," a deep baritone suddenly announced. Eli turned her gaze to Darcy. He was looking at her with his pale eyes hardened, his jaw set and firm. She raised an eyebrow. He was challenging her. "Even if it's just the in-class performance. If you don't feel like you can audition, you don't deserve the part," he said simply, his voice patronising, letting her know that she really had _no_ options.

"Now, young Master Darcy – _you_ might not have seen any evidence of Miss Bennett's skills – but _I_ have," he responded coolly. "And you had best trust my judgement in the future," he added.

"I don't mind," Eli said suddenly. "Darcy's right. It's only fair," she continued. Llewellyn raised his eyes to hers.

"Are you sure?" he questioned, and she shrugged her shoulders.

"I'll sing right now, if you want me to," she offered. He frowned slightly, but nodded.

"Alright then, come up here, and show this class what you're made of, Miss Bennett," he requested, before Eli to her feet. She was nervous as she walked to the front of the room, scanning her memory to find a song to sing. "When you're ready," he said kindly, with a short nod. Eli bit her lip, and before she knew what she was doing, she was already singing.

"_We speak in the store; I'm a sensitive bore,_

_You seem markedly more, and I'm oozing surprise_,"

She refused to look at the faces of the students. She focused all her energy on the song – she couldn't allow distraction. Hadn't that been pummelled into her head for years on end?

As a child, hadn't her unusual reaction of music sparked such interest? Hadn't her perception begun before the years of rigorous study? Hadn't she learnt the musical notes before she could even form proper sentences? Had not her tiny, childlike hands been pressing the keys of a piano before they had been gripping crayons and markers?

"_But it's late in the day, and you're well on your way,_

_What was golden went grey, and I'm suddenly shy,_"

She carefully monitored her pitch, trying not to sound screechy, like the original version of the song did.

"_And the gathering floozies, afford to be choosy,_

_And I'm sneezing darkly, in the dimming divide_

_I have read the right books, to interpret your looks,_

_You were knocking me down, with the palm of your eye_,

_Go na na na_…"

I stopped at that point, finally allowing her eyes to descend from their fixed place on the wall. She saw complete and total astonishment. Clare's eyes were alight with some sort of unbridled rage, white hot and tinged green with envy. She almost smirked, but she had been taught differently. Eli didn't get any kicks from boasting of her talents – she got them from listening to herself improve. She didn't care for praises or compliments, _she_ was her toughest critic. Flattery was nice, in small doses, but unnecessary when it came to self-improvement.

She almost feverishly met Darcy's eyes. He was surveying her with something akin to respect. It flickered momentarily in his eyes and was then gone, before she could even be sure it was there. He did not smile. He stared at her, his brow furrowed.

"Woah…" one person murmured in surprise. "Holy sh –"

"Enough, Banes," Llewellyn interrupted sternly, before the curse slipped from his lips. He sent her a comforting smile. "Very good, Eli. You've got a lot of talent," he praised kindly. She nodded and thanked him, returning to her seat. "Clare? Are you satisfied?" he questioned, turning to a rather red-faced Head Girl.

"She's okay," she sniffed. "She's not as good as she could be. Not good enough to do _The Phantom_, though," she added. Eli lowered her eyes slightly, not in shame, but in agreement. She _knew_ that she could be better. But she was too impatient to learn.

"Clare? Could you name a few techniques Eli applied to her vocals just then?" Llewellyn questioned. Clare bit her lip slowly.

"Uh… she used… leaps of the scale," she said slowly. "And… umm…" she trailed off, unable to think of something else.

"She sung with the directions _agitato_, and to a lesser degree _addolorato_ to the scale leaps, and on three occasions – for the higher notes – she used a minor _vibrato_," Darcy said suddenly. She met his eyes momentarily.

"Very good," Llewellyn acknowledged. "And anything else? I noticed that the piece was slightly reminiscent of a particular style that directs a piece to be performed –"

"Tenderly, as to arouse the passions with emotion, such as love, hate, or joy," Darcy finished.

"And Eli? The name of this direction?" Llewellyn questioned. She saw the name begin on Darcy's lips, but he held it back, surveying her with his keen eyes.

"_Affetuoso_," she answered. "It's a term loosely connected to the 17th century Doctrine of Affections. It was considered by the composers that music's aim was to – as Darcy said – arouse passions within a listener," she continued in her factual, informed voice. Her sisters would tease her often, saying it was her 'Hermione Granger' voice. Llewellyn nodded, and smiled with her knowledge.

"That was a nice little piece. I'm glad to note that you managed to steady your voice quite well, the combination of those techniques tends to give a definite waver to vocals," he praised.

"It was meant to be _Risoluto_, rather than _Agitato_," she admitted.

"Then you needed to control your projection better," Darcy said simply. She met his eyes, and hid back a scowl. He hardly said _anything_, from what she could tell, so why was he so quick to take a jab at her _now_?

"Perhaps you should be the _Angel of Music_ for Eli then, Darcy," Llewellyn offered, his rich eyes twinkling almost playfully. Eli wanted to object as loudly as she could, but she hid it back. She did _not_ want _him_ to tutor her.

"B – but you wouldn't have _time_, now would you, Darcy?" crooned Clare, directing her gaze towards the almost silent occupant of the opposite desk to her. He took on a bored, haughty expression, and turned his head, completely and totally ignoring her. She looked downhearted, and for a moment, Eli almost felt sorry for her.

Then she sent her a hideous glare, and that pity quickly disappeared.

"Next term, as an assessment, the class will be performing a number of items from musicals. I'd like you to perform some pieces in it," Llewellyn began. Eli nodded. "I trust you got a copy of the course work we completed last term?" he questioned, and she gave another nod. "I think it'd be a really good idea for you to audition for this year's musical. And I'm sure you'll be up to speed with the work very soon. Everyone else, take out your scores – we're going to run through the instrumentals for the _Moulin Rogue_ medley," he said to the rest of the class. He handed her a folder with all the sheet music that we would be doing within it. She thanked him quietly, hazarding another glance around the classroom.

She was fairly certain that at least two people hated her already. Clare she could handle – her kind were everywhere. There was another version of the uptight Head Girl at her last school anyway, Diamondie Geon. No, she didn't bother her as much as Clare would have liked.

But Eli could be absolutely certain that she had _never_ met anyone like Darcy before. And that frightened the hell out of her.

~ * ~

"How was it?" Francie questioned the moment that Jay and Eli climbed into the backseat of her big silver 4WD, a few minutes after the final bell had rung.

"Wonderful! Everyone is _so_ lovely, I met so many different people, and my classes were all excellent," Jay said happily, her blue eyes sparkling joyfully. Eli pulled her coat tighter around her body as Francie beamed, pleased with her daughter's happiness.

"And did you make any friends?" she questioned.

"Clare Bingley was very nice, and so was her brother…" Jay blushed.

"_Bingley_? As in Bingley Pharmaceuticals?" exclaimed Francie, as she pulled out of the school carpark, surveying her girls in the rear view mirror.

"I – I guess so," Jay replied, shrugging. "But they were rather lovely. I spent break and lunch with Clare and all her friends, as well as Eli and her new friends," she continued.

"New friends, Eli? My, that must be a novelty for you," Francie commented. Eli rolled her eyes.

"Worked really hard at that line, didn't you, Francie."

Francie's face turned to one of disgust. "I never liked your friends back in Australia – Mayumi was such a _weird_ girl, and she hardly even spoke English!" she commented.

"She was an _exchange student_, Francie, she wasn't expected to speak perfectly fluent English," Eli reminded her. "And _I_ liked my friends. In fact, if it wasn't for you and Dad deciding to shift us halfway across the planet, I'd probably be at Nat's house right now!" she snapped. Francie scoffed.

"Nat was a freak, Eli. And completely obsessed with that suicidal writer. And so was Regan, Marie, Annie, Joanna, and those other little brats you lazed around with," she informed her coolly. "At least _here_ you can meet some _proper_, polite young people. What about those girls you were talking to this morning?" she questioned.

"Emilia and Charlotte," she said stiffly. "I liked them. They were nice. Please don't talk to them. And I _didn't_ like Clare Bingley," she added. Francie rolled her eyes.

"I should have guessed as much. Just behave, make _good_ friends, and get a boyfriend. Why, when I was your age, I'd already had more boyfriends than I could count! _Lyla_ has had plenty of boyfriends!" she said.

"You must not have seen the newsflash. Being a whore isn't something to be proud of."

"I give up on you. Now Jay – tell me about your day," she finished sharply, to which Eli was most grateful. Her relationship with her mother was strained, at best.

Eli never really knew _why_ that was. She could always guess, and could conclude that it was perhaps because she just didn't live up to the records set by Jay and Lyla. She wasn't beautiful, she couldn't dance, she wasn't interested in boys and shopping and the latest soaps on TV, she liked music, reading and writing. She wasn't even submissive, like Kate, who was content to simply follow Lyla around, like they were still stuck in a womb together.

She could also conclude it was the curse of being the youngest. Most people would assume that the middle child was always forgotten – but that wasn't always the case. Kate and Lyla were born so soon after Jay that there was hardly even a year between them. Eli was an accident; her parents only wanted two children, a boy and a girl. After having three girls, they thought it was time to call it a day. And even though she wasn't _wanted_, the least she could have done, as her mother argued, was to have a penis.

Well, she had always been a bit of a disappointment.

After about half-an-hour of travel past undulating green hills and fancy estate houses, the car finally rolled into the drive, Eli jumped out. She had no desire to sit in there any longer, she just wanted to go upstairs and force her anger out on her piano.

"Eli?" she heard a questioning voice come from the doorway of her father's study. He ducked his wizened head out, dark eyes locking onto hers. He only took a moment to survey her mood. "Come in then," he said, noting her agitation. She tugged off her beanie, gloves and scarf as she came into the room, sitting down on the rug before the large fireplace as her father resumed his usual armchair and book. "How was it?" he questioned, flipping through pages behind frameless spectacles. Eli sighed, and ran a hand through her curls.

"Fine, sir," she lied. He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"'False words are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil'," he quoted as a response. Eli bit her lip. She should have known he was going to Plato on her ass.

"I have my… objections to the school," she admitted. He lowered his book, and surveyed her carefully.

"Such as?"

"Well, I guess… that I don't really see the need to redo my finals," she confessed finally.

"You completed your HSC equivalent majoring in mathematics and science. You wanted a chance to look at other subjects," he stated stiffly. "And now I'm giving it to you. This will give you the chance to decide what you should be studying at University," he continued, folding his hands together.

She wanted to sigh in frustration, but she couldn't, not to him. She knew that part of his decision to send her back to school was so she could change her mind about her decision for University. He wanted her to be a doctor, or a scientist. He allowed her the chace to redo her finals, specialising in languages, history and music, something that she had barely been able to do the year before, what with her crippling six units of maths, four of science, two of English and only two of music. He assumed that she was going to change her subjects very quickly, once she tired of languages and creativity. Or if not, she was going to declare that she was ready to go to Oxford or Cambridge to study medicine.

"Sir, I don't want to be a doctor, or a scientist, or even a lawyer!" she insisted. "Please, Dorr, do I have to go back there again? Almost everyone I met there hated me! Please, we're not that far from Oxford, can't I just –" she started to beg, but he held up a silencing hand. Her emotions were torn between anger and disappointment.

"Eli, you're being weak. This was _your_ wish – _you_ wanted to study the easy subjects, and now that I've given you the chance, you're going back on your word!" he said sharply. She was almost fuming with anger.

"Well maybe letting you boss me around is a sign of weakness!" she cried suddenly. His eyes narrowed.

"Elizabeth, go upstairs and study," he directed her sharply. She felt her face burn, but held his gaze angrily. He frowned. "Eli, I am your father – you _will_ obey me," he ordered curtly.

"Fine," she snapped, rising to her feat, picking up her coat and bag once more.

"Do you have something to say to me?" he questioned, meeting her dark eyes. She bit the inside of her cheek.

"I apologise for my insolence, Dorr, sir," she lied once more, clenching her fist tightly. He nodded, and she left the room, heading up the stairs quickly, before slamming the bedroom door behind her. She threw her bag down on the floor, and pulled at her uniform, until it was lying in a messy heap on the floor.

She threw her shoes across the room with an angry cry.

She hated England.

**A/N: Sigh. I love Llewellyn. The song Eli sings in this is 'Peach, Plum Pear' by Joanna Newsom, an amazing artist, and whilst her voice is… interesting… it isn't how I imagined Eli singing it. Please review!**


	4. Jay, George and Emilia

"_And break, mistrust this belief,  
At least they'll never get you for vagrancy.  
Broken down in need of relief  
I've know you long enough,  
Won't you dance with me?"_

- Faker, 'My Love's for Sale'

**A/N: Thank you so much for the lovely reviews I'm getting! Just a brief explanation – in Australia, the HSC is the higher school certificate, you normally complete it in year twelve, and at the end your exams marks are averaged and scaled until you get a mark out of 100, and that mark is your University Admissions Index. Eli would have gotten her HSC equivalent at TAFE, which is sort of like community college, I think. It means you cut a year off your HSC, when it's normally two years. But not very many people do it, because school is just easier. **

"Don't you just _love_ it here, Eli?" Jay sighed happily after dinner, entering her sister's room, and pulling across the curtains to her Chinese Opium Bed (which was much more Rococo than it was oriental).

"Says the wolf to little Red," Eli muttered in response, her slender fingers running scales up the ivory keys of her piano.

"School was such fun today. Did you know that Clare is in training to be an opera singer?" she questioned, glancing over at Eli curiously. She sniggered.

"That explains why she wanted to murder me when I got her part from _The Phantom_," she replied.

"I'm sure she'll like you when she gets to know you better," Jay assured her. Eli wanted to register her doubt at that, but she didn't say anything. "What did you think of Char?" Jay asked carefully, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Charlotte Lucas, you mean?" Eli responded innocently, trying to keep the urge to tease from her tones.

"Uh… well, I meant Char Bingley, actually," she admitted.

"Oh, him. Well, cute, funny, nice."

"Really?" Jay questioned, still trying to keep her voice light and subtle.

"Completely in love with you, too, but I assumed that you saw the looks of unadulterated lust he was sending you," Eli added. Jay instantly blushed bright red.

"Eli!" she scolded, meeting a laugh in response.

"Oh come off it, he was _into_ you," Eli teased. Jay's cheeks continued to flush.

"He was _not_, he was just polite," she muttered. "And what did you think of Darcy?" she questioned loudly, changing the subject. Eli's fingering faltered, and she loudly clanged out a clashing combination of notes, wincing at the Freudian dissonance.

"I don't know the proper British slang for a 'jerk' yet," she answered, frowning at her fingers. She felt Jay smile, rather than saw her do so.

"He was looking at you a fair bit," she informed her, idly turning a pillow around in her hands. Eli rolled her eyes.

"Emilia, Charlotte and I all heard him say that he didn't think I was pretty," she replied calmly, measuring out her words carefully to not let her true, hidden insecurities shine through. "He called me a weed. Right after Char had blabbed on about how beautiful you were," she added.

"_No!_ He can't of!" Jay exclaimed. She didn't seem upset at all to hear that Char had called her beautiful. Eli assumed she was just used to it.

"He _did_, and it doesn't bother me. It's not like I was seeking his approval or anything, he was just another random at that shit-box of a school," she said, beginning the opening lines of the _Prince of Egypt_ medley she had been instructed to run through before the next music lesson.

"But why would someone have said something so mean? And after only knowing you for a little while?" she questioned. "Maybe he was talking about someone else," she suggested. Eli shook her head.

"Nope, not unless there's another 'Eli' at Rosings, with a sister called Jay, who just started at the school, and used to live in Australia," she replied sarcastically.

"But… he seemed nice," she muttered. Eli shrugged.

"Yeah, well I'm sure Jack the Ripper seemed pleasant enough on first acquaintances."

"Well, wait until he gets to know you. Maybe you'll get along really well," she advised. Eli scoffed.

"Yeah right, he's a prick. I'm just going to ignore him, okay? I just want to finish school and get back to Australia. Never mind Darcy," she replied. Jay sighed, but let it go. "So how did the twins like their new school?" she asked, changing the subject. She didn't really have much of an interest in the twins.

"Oh, they seem to like it well enough, they said there were lots of boys there," Jay laughed in response. Eli rolled her eyes, not surprised in the least.

"I'm just glad that they didn't get into Rosings. It would've only made today all the more painful," she muttered.

"They're not _so_ bad, Eli," Jay tried to convince her. She scoffed.

"You're _compelled_ to think everyone you meet is an angel, Jay," she reminded her. She blushed slightly.

"That's not true!" she objected. Eli raised an eyebrow, and glanced at her over the piano. Jay sighed. "Well, I'd much rather be disappointed than judgemental," she admitted. Eli laughed.

"I guess I'm the other way around then," she responded, her dark eyes twinkling playfully. Jay's eyes went wide.

"Oh no, Eli! I didn't mean to say you!" she cried, raising her hands to her mouth. "No! I truly didn't! You're just a little reluctant to trust sometimes – that's not a bad thing!" she assured her desperately. Eli's laughing continued.

"I know, hun. You would never insult anyone, let along me, your darling, if not slightly self-indulgent and self-conscious sister," she conceded. Jay sighed in relief and smiled, happy that her sister held no hard feelings. However, she knew better than most that her sister had the tendency to hold grudges. Whilst she didn't seem to care that much about what others thought of her, she was quite fragile beneath her tough exterior. But she wouldn't hold a grudge over something so trivial like what they had just discussed, she didn't normally mind what others thought, rather, found it amusing. She rose from her sister's bed, and crossed the room, pressing a small kiss to Eli's forehead.

"Night Eli. Hopefully you'll like school better tomorrow," she said, before slipping out of the bedroom.

Eli turned back to her piano with a slight chuckle slowly fading from her voice. She did find some aspects of her new situation humorous. But she found others disconcerting, for sure. She laughed away most of the grievances of the day.

But try as she might, there was something that lingered in her mind about a certain tall, dark and handsome member of the student population a lot more than her amusement at his pompous opinions.

Like his eyes, perchance.

~ * ~

As it was, Eli _didn't _like school any better the next day. In fact, it might have even gotten worse for her. It was still freezing, she was still getting lost, and she was still on the receiving end of several death glares sent at her from left, right and centre. And it wasn't better the day after that, or the next day, or even the next. The only thing that improved was her friendship with Emilia and Charlotte, because her relationship with Clare was certainly only moving backwards.

"Sorry – I mixed up the floors," she muttered apologetically, slipping into her music class five minutes late. Llewellyn sent her a small, kind smile that made her heart leap a little in her chest. She was becoming rather fond of her new music teacher. However, he looked a bit tired, as he usually did. Eli wondered briefly if he had a girlfriend.

And then she almost kicked herself for that brief thought. How could she! He was at _least_ a good twelve or thirteen years older than her! She fought back a blush as she closed the door behind her.

"Quite alright, Eli," he replied politely. She wound her way around instruments, chairs and desks as she headed to her table, ignoring the evil glare that Clare Bingley was sending her, and the penetrating gaze that she felt on her person from Darcy, once more buried away in the corner. She wondered if he had any friends, other than Char. He wasn't sitting with anyone.

But then again, she noted, as she took the empty table by herself, neither was she. She wished that some of her friends from Australia could be in the class with her; Regan would know just what to say to get Clare off her back, just like she knew how to shut Diamondie Geon up when she called her a boyfriend-stealing bitch last summer. And Birdie would be able to get rid of Darcy's intense staring with his furrowed brow and amazing height in a second.

"We're looking at the refrain from the _Moses, Prince of Egypt _medley," Llewellyn informed her, as she pulled out her folder, and began to flip through it for the sheet music.

"Let me guess, you're going to give _that_ to her too?" Clare questioned him bitterly from her table. Llewellyn sent her an irritated, if not slightly amused glance.

"Not unless I can grow external reproductive organs in the next few minutes, Clare, because it's written for a male baritone," Eli pointed out to her. Llewellyn hid back a snort of laughter, as Clare's face turned an angry shade of red.

"_Eliza_," she crooned, almost causing Eli to wince. She _hated_ that nickname. "I wasn't trying to be _insulting_; I'm just worried about all this putting a strain on your voice. After all, there are several singers in this class with more… uh… vocal _maturity_," she simpered. Eli wanted to laugh. Clare was full of it.

"Well, I have no problem with you singing a baritone, if you want, Clare," she said politely. Clare's mouth curled to an expression of distaste.

"Perhaps Clare, you'll be more successful with the growing of male reproductive organs within the next few minutes. Eli seemed to label it a challenge, but we can fetch you a pair of trousers now if you wish," Llewellyn teased, his eyes twinkling, lips curled upwards to show he meant no harm. Clare rolled her eyes, sent Eli one final, furious glare, and tossed her scarlet head back to her normally silent companion.

Eli turned away from her.

_One point for me_, she counted with glee.

"Is that homework?" Emilia asked Eli curiously a few hours later at break, peering over her shoulder as she sat on the floor of the senior lounge, scribbling in a notebook.

"Hit list," she murmured, not really paying much attention. Emilia sniggered, and rolled her eyes, relaxing back on the couch in comfort.

"What are you _really_ doing?" she questioned inquisitively.

"I'm just writing down a little melody that I thought of. I wanted to get it down before I forgot it," Eli answered simply, taking a sip from her juice.

"Can you make up songs like that in your head?" Emilia questioned curiously, glancing at the open pages of Eli's book in her lap. It was her 'everything' book as she called it, holding more than just musical melodies, it contained ideas, sketches, quotes, conversations, sort of 'diary' entries, everything. It was like a journal for her.

"Pretty much," Eli replied, snapping it shut. Emilia didn't look offended. Eli simply didn't want her to look at it – because she had diary entries revealing her deepest thoughts and feelings, not to mention several character profiles in there based on people that she knew, and she didn't feel comfortable with Emilia reading about them. She didn't want _anyone_ reading about them.

Making up character profiles was one of Eli's favourite hobbies. She drew them from people that she met, taking little characteristics from here and there, bending them, twisting them, shining them up a little, before she had a person finely polished, so real that she felt she could almost reach out and touch them. She used them in her writing, for her songs, for her sketches, her short stories; it was handy to have them there for her use at a moment's notice.

"So. What class did you have earlier?" Emilia asked casually, lying back on the couch once more, tossing a blonde curl over her shoulder.

"The only decent class I _have_."

"Ahh… and how _is_ music going?" Emilia questioned teasingly, pale eyes twinkling. Eli rolled her own dark pair.

"Does that give you an indication?" she questioned, gesturing over to the corner, where Clare and her friends, including Jay, sat. All but Jay were sending her fiery death-glares, a practise they had all adopted very quickly. Clare's jealousy seemed to infect those around her faster than Swine Flu.

"Clare's like that. Friendly little ball of fluff and joy," Emilia said sarcastically. Eli chuckled. "I've heard her talk. She's paranoid that you're going to steal the lead in the musical this year – and she _really_ wants it. Especially because the consensus is that Darcy is going to be the male lead," she explained. Eli gave a small growl of irritation.

"Well she's not completely paranoid – I want to try out for the auditions. They aren't till the last few weeks of this term though – but I _really_ want to do it," she admitted. Emilia raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure about that? Clare can get pretty territorial," she informed her. Eli rolled her eyes.

"Listen, I _love_ that musical. It's been a secret dream for me since I was really small to go perform in the stage production one day," she explained. "And I know Clare is a bitch, and I know I'm stepping on her toes, but I want this. So I'm going to go for it, no matter what," she said with determination. Emilia grinned.

"I admire your bravery. I say go for it. I'm sick of watching bad productions of 'My Fair Lady' starring the Scarlet-Whore," she muttered. Eli chuckled. "Oh, I almost forgot. Are you busy this afternoon? George just flew back in from America. We were going to see a movie and grab a bite to eat," she said.

"Uh… are you sure you want me to intrude?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow. Emilia laughed.

"Well why not? I told George _all_ about you, he'd love to meet you," she said eagerly.

"Well, sure then, I guess. You've just saved me from having to put up with the twins and Francie. Their favourite soap opera is on tonight, and they always get really… weird about it," she laughed as a response. "And Jay is going over to Clare's this afternoon – so I wouldn't have my buffer," she added.

"Great! George is going to pick me up in the carpark after the last bell, make sure you're ready, okay?" she requested, and Eli nodded, with a small smile.

Eli liked Emilia. She was beautiful, clever, funny, and everyone seemed to like her, but she never let any of it go to her head. She _knew_ she was attractive, and she didn't bother to deny it, she just… never thought about it. It didn't matter to her. And the same went with her marks – she was smart, but she never boasted it. She was terribly down to earth, and even though occasionally a little bit up in the clouds, and even sometimes a bit too practical for Eli's liking, she was a good person to have around. She just wished that she could have some of the confidence that Emilia was oozing.

"Eli!" she heard a squeal from the entrance to the student lounge sound. She glanced up as Charlotte came rushing in, her face pink with excitement. "Darcy and Char are coming!" she said excitedly.

"Oh goodie. I'll be hiding then."

"Why?" Emilia questioned, her pale eyes wide and perplexed. "You aren't still upset about what he said? He says weird stuff sometimes, don't let it bother you," she advised.

"I could forgive him if his ego hadn't punctured mine," Eli sniffed, her eyes twinkling with laughter.

"He's not _so_ bad," Emilia chuckled, just as the man himself walked into the lounge. Eli's eyes rose up to meet his – and she felt a little tingle shoot down her spine. She hated when that happened. His intense stare always elicited an unwanted physical reaction from her.

"Emilia, Charlotte," he acknowledged, strolling over to the threesome as Char moved instantly to Jay's group. Eli was almost surprised, never before had he willingly spoken to them. Or at least, not since she had known him.

"Hey Darcy. How's Georgie?" Emilia questioned him pleasantly, with a certain casualness that suggested they had some sort of mutual friendship.

"Fine."

"Is she still starting here next year?" Charlotte asked curiously, her voice slightly high with nervousness.

"Possibly."

"So Chuckles, how's that lazy eye?" Eli questioned, growing slightly frustrated at his constant stares. He looked almost angered for a moment, but finally looked away from her.

"Has Llewellyn given you your pieces yet?" he asked, staring a few inches above her shoulder.

"Other than telling me I'm doing that piece from _The Phantom_? No, not yet," she answered, shrugging. "He mentioned something about _Moulin Rogue_ though," she added hopefully. He nodded.

"Did you know he's adding a piece from _Wicked_?" he questioned.

"Really? Did you know which one?" she responded, arching an eyebrow. He shook his head. "Well I can imagine Clare singing 'Popular' – so I bet you anything that's going to be it," she muttered.

"I'm not sure which one he picked. But I know that he's adding _Good Morning Baltimore_ from Hairspray," he informed her.

"Ew – anything with Zac Efron in it turns me off completely," she replied with a shudder.

"Well you're lucky then, because Michelle is taking it," he answered, still not meeting her eyes. It was an interesting change from his normal behaviour.

"Thank God," she sighed happily. "Oh – and is he really ditching _El Tango de Roxanne_?" she questioned. He shook his head.

"No, but he's thinking of making it just instrumental," he answered calmly. "He didn't have enough male vocals," he explained.

"But he's not getting rid of the vocals for _Come What May_ and _The Show Must Go On_?" Eli exclaimed. He shook his head once again.

"No, they're still going to be an extended duet," he answered. "But he admitted defeat and gave Clare the lullaby for _Prince of Egypt_, he's added that to the medley," he informed her. She snorted.

"That's five songs in one medley so far – not to mention the fact that it's _two_ ballads, that's really going to mess it up," she commented, before giving a small half-sigh, half-huff of discontent. "Well, it was either that or every piece from _High School Musical, _like her _other_ suggestion, so he made an appropriate sacrifice," she muttered.

The bell rung before Darcy could reply, and Eli pulled herself up to her feet, putting her books back into her satchel. Emilia gripped her left arm and Charlotte her right as Darcy turned away and left the lounge, before they were pulling her into the hall.

"_What_?" she exclaimed, as they finally let go of her.

"Darcy talked to you!" Charlotte squealed. Eli rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, _after_ he refused to acknowledge me when he walked over," she pointed out.

"That doesn't matter – he talked to you! And you two didn't argue!" Emilia retorted.

"Well, we were talking about _music_. Anything else and I probably would have ripped his head off," Eli conceded. Charlotte sighed as she watched him head down the hall.

"He's _so_ fit," she practically swooned.

"Charlotte! Remember, he's perfect for _Eli_," Emilia reminded her.

"I know…" Charlotte muttered, almost sadly.

"Hang on; you aren't going to do that matchmaking thing I've been warned about, are you?" Eli questioned Emilia with sudden nervousness. Emilia's pale eyes twinkled. Eli edged away apprehensively.

"Oh _stop_, I won't interfere!" she cried. Eli relaxed, and smiled.

"Good, because I'm not into Darcy. He's got a girlfriend. And we don't get along at all," she reminded her. Emilia's eyes twinkled again.

"Remember, Eli, carpark, after the bell!" she called, before disappearing down the hall. Eli wanted to laugh, but she was too concerned.

Because if _Darcy_ could be civil to her, then perhaps Emilia could succeed in causing a huge problem. After all, Darcy's civility proved that _anything_ was possible in the topsy-turvy world that was England.

After the bell rang, Eli headed to the back carpark. She waved goodbye to Jay, who was going to Clare's place that afternoon, and searched for any sign of Emilia. She spotted her pale, curly head on the other side of the carpark, and started to walk towards her.

She nearly jumped out of her skin as she heard a weird, high pitched noise coming from a car she was walking past as someone used a remote-key to unlock it. It frightened the hell out of her – she fell backwards and winced at what she knew was going to be a horribly painful collision with the ground.

But she didn't fall. Right before she hit the ground she felt a pair of strong, warm arms wrap tightly around her waist, her back smacking into someone's chest.

"Shit," she muttered, as the arms pulled her back up to a standing position. She turned around when her feet were firmly on the ground.

"Are you okay?" Darcy questioned her carefully, his intense gaze raking over her person to determine her safety. She stepped back, her face turning bright red. He released his grip from their place halfway between her waist and her hips, a little later than what was polite and acceptable. She chewed her lip.

"I – sorry," she muttered. "The car frightened me," she added, wishing that she didn't sound as stupid as she felt. But stupidity was stopping her from shouting at him for touching her when she would rather have fell to the ground instead, so it was serving a useful purpose, for once.

"Ah. And is this unusual for you, or do you always get frightened by loud noises and sudden movement?"

"No! Well – err…" she replied, before recalling the amount of times that she had been in exactly the same position, except instead of having a pair of strong, warm arms connected to the most gorgeous guy in existence, she landed flat on her behind.

Eli almost gasped as she realised just what she had unconsciously thought. Well, he _was_ gorgeous, but… he was a _jerk_! She wanted to pinch herself, she wanted to hit herself over the head with a hammer, she did _not_ like Darcy. She _hated_ him. That was the second time that day that she had practically drooled over a guy – at least Llewellyn knew how to smile!

"Thanks for that," she said finally, making a move to walk away.

"Did you need a lift?" he asked her suddenly. She turned back to face him, and raised an eyebrow.

"My dad doesn't like me riding in cars with strange boys," she said simply, with the slightest edge and coolness to her voice, wishing that he would just get in his car and go.

"It's safe," he assured her, gesturing towards his vehicle. She took a moment to look at it. Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell slightly.

It was _gorgeous. _A stunning dark silver Mercedes convertible. It looked brand new, and probably _was_. For a moment, she was half tempted to forget what a jerk Darcy was, and that Emilia and George were waiting for her, and accept his offer for a lift home.

"Emilia and her friend are picking me up," she informed him almost regretfully, tearing her eyes away from the car. "And my father would _murder_ me. Dorr is really protective. In fact, he'd probably kill me if he knew that Emilia's friend is driving me home," she muttered. "Thanks for the offer, though," she added.

"Not a problem," he answered, pulling the boot of the car open, and throwing his bag in it. "Why is your father protective?" he questioned suddenly. Eli frowned slightly, why was he so interested in her personal life all of a sudden? He always seemed to be asking her questions, but she _knew _that he didn't give a damn about her. So _why_?

"I'm the youngest. I guess he thinks I'm just the baby, the one that needs looking after," she shrugged. He glanced over his shoulder at her, and frowned at her words.

"You don't act like you need protecting," he stated.

"I never said I _did_, it's just what he seems to think. I'm perfectly able to handle myself," she replied firmly.

"You're fifteen. You're compelled to think that by biological law," he objected. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm almost sixteen, and I _can_ look after myself, Darcy," she assured him coolly. "Dorr worries about me because he's my father; he's trained to do that. I don't need him to hold my hand and scare away the monsters," she added curtly.

"Then why can't you ride in cars with boys?" he asked simply, leaning against the boot of his car casually. She scowled.

"Because boys are more likely to be dicks than girls are," she snapped.

"That's a bit of a generalisation."

"Doesn't make it any less true," she sniffed in response. "I have to go. I'll see you around," she said finally.

"See you tomorrow," he said, as Eli nodded, and walked away, trying to hide back the urge to scream with frustration.

"Eli! I saw everything – are you okay?" Emilia questioned, rushing towards her friend as she reached her destination.

"Fine," she answered, blushing slightly. "Darcy stopped me from landing on my ass. He scared me when he unlocked his car," she explained. Emilia raised an eyebrow.

"I saw that too. For a second there you weren't radiating extreme hatred towards him. Well, except right before you walked away," she pointed out. Eli scoffed.

"He stopped me from bruising my backside, that doesn't mean I'm eternally indebted, Em. I'll live," she assured her.

"Oh good, someone who won't put up with her matchmaking," a deep chuckle sounded, as Eli glanced over to where Emilia had been standing. A tall man stood a few feet away from them, leaning against the back of a sporty cherry red Audi.

He was attractive, no doubt, and looked to be about in his mid to late twenties. He had lengthy dark hair, and for a moment she was reminded of Darcy, but she put it from her mind. They were completely different. Where Darcy had the bone structure of Cillian Murphy, this guy had only the hair. He had an intelligent sort of face, a bit of dark stubble over his cheeks, and twinkling dark eyes of celadon with flecks of gold. He was dressed nicely, in a pair of blue denim jeans, a white un-collared shirt, a dark grey V-neck and a long dark brown leather coat, a white scarf wrapped around his neck, and his hair slightly disfigured with a lopsided wool beanie. He was very handsome, in a sort of clever, subtle way.

Eli wondered if he were more attractive than Darcy. She couldn't decide. She knew that she preferred Darcy, but this man was rather handsome. She stopped that train of thought when she came to the realisation that she was comparing a stranger to Darcy. Was he _that_ thought-consuming? She refused to compare this guy to Darcy. He had a slight Hugh Dancy, Jesse Spencer in _Uptown Girls_ look about him. Except much more masculine.

"Okay, I _know_ he's pretty, but please, don't let him think that you think he is," Emilia advised her loudly, Eli's face blushing bright red when she realised that she had been staring.

"Pretty? _Pretty_?" the man, George, she assumed, exclaimed in shock. "You think I'm _pretty_?" he questioned, as Emilia smirked.

"Quiet, Gigi," she commanded. George (Eli was certain that it was his name) scowled, and teasingly pulled an arm around Emilia's slight waist, picking her up clear from the ground. She squealed and cried out. "George! Ah! Stop it!" she begged, as he started to tickle her.

"Not until you agree that I'm not '_pretty_', I'm sexy. I'm ruggedly handsome. Like Gerard Butler," he said sternly, Emilia's legs kicking widely, trying to connect with his person to make him let go of her.

"Yeah right! Maybe in _The Phantom of the Opera_!" she managed to cry out, which only earned her even more tickles. Eli was laughing quite freely at that point, but not making an effort to release her. "Fine! Fine! You're sexy, George, not pretty!" Emilia shouted finally. George released her, and she sent him an angry glare the moment her feet connected with the ground.

"Now Emi, are we going to behave?" he questioned, adjusting his slipping beanie, and tossing the end of his scarf back over his shoulder.

"I hope you're captured by terrorists, stripped naked, smeared with honey, and left in the fire ant display at the zoo."

"That's my girl."

"And I hope a group of Catholic schoolgirls visit the display with their camera phones."

"Nice touch," he commented, before turning to Eli. "George Knightly. So you must be Eli Bennett?" he questioned, reaching out and shaking her hand.

"That's me," she answered, smiling beguilingly. "I can't believe you just did that. She's going to murder you," she added, glancing back to Emilia, who was indeed, giving George a rather angry look.

"Oh, no, she'll let me off the hook," he assured her. "I know her too well. I changed her diapers, picked her up from kindergarten, helped her with science projects, we go way back," he boasted nostalgically.

"He's lying. He never changed my diapers," Emilia informed her. She chuckled as George rolled his eyes.

"Come on then, it's freezing out here, and I hate the cold," he said, moving over to the front seat of his car. Emilia and Eli climbed in after him, before he started the engine, and pulled out of the carpark.

Eli had fun. George was much older than Emilia and she, but he was clever, funny, and seemed to be incredibly at ease with Emilia, like they were an old married couple, or happy, contented lovers that had been together for years. Eli had assumed that he would be like a brother to her, that was the way she described him, but she didn't get that sort of vibe, she didn't think that was where they stood. Or at least, that wasn't where George stood.

"So Eli, what are you doing in England?" George questioned curiously, sitting down in the booth at a noodle bar where we had decided to have dinner. He passed Emilia a bottle of juice, and another to her, before opening his, and taking a swig.

"Well, my Dad is an Editor for a publishing company based in England. He used to work from the Sydney office, but they had an opening for a better position here, and he just decided that we needed a change of pace," she explained. He raised an eyebrow.

"Really? It seems like an awfully big change of pace. How are you dealing with it?" he asked curiously. She shrugged.

"Well, I kind of hate it," she admitted, with a laugh. "I mean, it's always cold, everyone here is so different, and now my Mum has started to have all these meetings with the Headmaster. I think they're going to be friends. It's scary," she explained.

"Bleurgh. Headmistress du Bourg is evil," Emilia commented, unwrapping her chopsticks.

"So are you, but we don't hold it against you," George retorted, ruffling her hair playfully. She rolled her eyes, and poked out her tongue. "Mature," he chuckled.

"So… Emilia tells me you just came back from America," Eli stated, unsure of how to keep the conversation moving in such a tight, familiar duo.

"I was only there for two weeks, and this little runt can't live without me," he informed her, gesturing to Emilia, who gave a small scoff, but did not look up from her soy beef stir fry. "I was there for work. I run a publishing and production house, but it's probably _very_ different to the one your father works for. I had to meet with some idiots that nearly ran the company I want to buy into the ground," he explained.

"It's terribly boring. He thinks that kind of stuff is exciting, but all he does is sit in a plush office and drink coffee," Emilia informed Eli.

"I deny nothing," George replied smugly, taking another swig of juice.

"He's a writer, really, but he refuses to publish any of his _own_ stuff, so instead he publishes everyone else's," she continued, practically ignoring George. "He could be the next J.K. Rowling if he wanted to, and he writes these _amazing_ songs too, but he thinks that his voice sucks, so he won't do anything about them," she explained.

"She speaks lies. She's a horrible child," George replied with a small grin to Eli, and a wink.

"Shutup you, I'm singing your praises," Emilia scolded him, slapping his chest playfully. He chuckled.

"Well when I sing _your_ praises you get all fussy with me," he pointed out. She rolled her eyes, and tossed her hair back.

"I have no praises to be sung, George," she argued sternly. He snorted.

"I'd list them for you, but she's as egotistical as they come, it'd only make her fat head grow ever bigger," he informed Eli.

"See? Can you imagine the torment of growing up with this guy as my mentor?" Emilia questioned exasperatedly. Eli laughed.

"I dunno, it'd be fun," she replied, shrugging.

"Thank you Eli, at least _someone_ appreciates me," George replied, raising his plastic juice bottle in a mock toast. She tapped hers against his, and took a deep mouthful, trying not to laugh. "So Emilia says that you've already completed your high school graduation," he commented.

"I finished the equivalent a few months ago. I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do at University, and I was apparently too 'emotionally undeveloped' for it," she explained.

"It explains the vibe you give out," he replied.

"'Vibe'?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged.

"I don't know. You just seem to radiate sort of understated wisdom. You seem really clever," he explained with a shrug. Eli shook her head.

"I don't like to think so. I've just been educated very specifically. It's down to hard work, not natural talent," she explained. George raised an eyebrow, and glanced towards Emilia.

"She could be quite brilliant, you know, if she made enough effort," he informed her. Emilia rolled her eyes. "She's determined and clever enough, but she doesn't have any will or patience to get results," he added. "I mean, put something in front of her, and give her the right motivation, and she can do it. But she refuses, unless somehow, some benefit could be gained from it," he explained.

"Shutup, Oprah. I thought you weren't going to sing my praises," she ordered him. He chuckled.

"Well you could! You could be an amazing pianist if you bothered to continue your lessons and actually _practise_, and the same with drawing and painting – whenever you get a hobby you always quit just as you start to show real talent for it!" he said. Emilia gave another absent roll of the eyes.

"He's always doing this speech. I think he wants me to be a Prime Minister in about two years," she informed Eli.

"Trust me, I know how that feels. Dorr – my dad – he wants me to be a doctor or a scientist or something, or a lawyer, if my standards really slip," she said, shaking her head as she slowly attempted to grasp a piece of chicken with her chopsticks.

"And… you _don't_ want to be a doctor or a scientist or a lawyer?" George guessed, his eyes twinkling.

"Five points for Captain Obvious," she teased in response.

"Oh! I bought him a shirt that says that once!" Emilia boasted proudly. George chuckled at the memory.

"She even makes me wear it sometimes," he informed her, with a slight shudder.

"Hey! I wear the clothes you get me all the time!" she objected.

"I've never asked you to wear a shirt with a giant super hero emblem splayed across your chest!" he pointed out. Emilia rolled her eyes.

"Of course you wouldn't. It'd draw attention to my boobs – and you would murder any guy that looked at me in it," she said simply. "He almost did that once, you know," she added to Eli, who was chuckling. "I wore a shirt with a _slightly _low cut –"

"Ha! I have socks that cover more than that shirt did!"

"- and suddenly every guy and girl within a two mile radius is practically pissing their pants with the looks he's giving them. He made me wear his jumper for the rest of the day," she informed her. George muttered something about privileges, decorum and a definite possessive article, and Emilia only laughed.

"Careful of this one, she'll corrupt you," he warned Eli, who nodded, trying to fight her smile.

"Only because he corrupted me first," Emilia piped in cheerfully. George chuckled, shook his head slightly, and turned back to his noodles.

Eli smiled at the two before her. She couldn't help but think that it'd be nice to have the kind of relationship George and Emilia had with someone.

**A/N: Alright, to those who haven't checked my author's page, this story is laying the foundations for its sequel (which is yet to have a name, so I'm just calling it 'Emilia' at the moment), which will feature the two characters Emilia and George from this story, as well as a lot of stuff about Eli/Darcy, and a bit about Llewellyn and his girlfriend, Toni, who you don't meet until later. I really love writing about Llewellyn, and whilst he isn't exactly Jane Austen (he's actually based of J. K. Rowling's Remus Lupin), he's one of my favourite characters :D So please review, I love hearing from all of you!**


	5. What is this Fire?

"_I don't want to say 'I love you',  
That would give away too much  
Good to be detached and precious,  
the only thing you feel is vicious  
I don't want to say 'I want you',  
even though I want you so much  
It's wrapped up in conversation,  
it's whispered in a hush"_

-Split Endz, 'Message to my Girl'_  
_

Eli got home later than expected, due to a five round match of air hockey that consisted of her and Emilia against George. Which he won, making the girls quite ashamed of themselves. Eli was worried that she'd get two tons of shit heaped on her from Francie and Dorr for coming home late, and even though she denied George's suggestion that he would talk to them, she had to admit that she was a bit terrified of walking through the large mahogany doors to the house.

Eli was about to open the door when – much to her surprise – it did so itself, seemingly of its own accord. She stared doubtfully, walking though it with hesitation, glancing around with a frown, wondering which one of her sisters had decided to play a trick on her.

"Oh. Hello," she murmured, when she discovered just who had opened the door for her. She'd never seen the woman before; she was in her early twenties or late teens, wearing a black dress with a white boat collar, black stockings, black shoes, and a little navy apron tied around her waist. She had dark hair and olive skin, with big black eyes framed by long, curly coal lashes. There was a certain curve about her mouth that lent something sophisticated, and close to attractive to her appearance.

"You must be Miss Elisabet," she greeted, making a small curtsey. "Your mother has asked me to tell upon your return that dinner has finished for the evening, but you may have a fruit cup, if you are hungry," she informed her slowly, in a rich Polish accent.

"Ahh… that's nice," Eli stated in confusion. "I'm sorry – but who are you?" she questioned. The woman gave a small, brief smile.

"I am Helena, Miss Elisabet," she replied, with another curtsey. She pronounced it like 'Hill-ein-ah', and it sounded rather pretty, rolling off her foreign tongue.

"That's… helpful," Eli muttered, unsure of what to say next. Helena seemed to take initiative, however, and took her schoolbag, coat, beanie, scarf and gloves from her, placing them in the closet by the door.

"_Helena_!" a screech sounded from the front living room. Francie appeared a moment later, standing in the doorway. "_There_ you are, Eli! My goodness, I nearly had a fit waiting for you to get home!" she cried. Eli wanted to scoff; she knew she was full of it. She just wanted to put her on a guilt train for being late.

"Sorry, Francie," she replied. "So… I've met Helena," she stated. Francie still scowled at her.

"Helena, this is Elizabeth. She's going to make everything difficult for you," she informed her. "Could you make me some hot chocolate, Helena? And then draw me a bath," she requested of the woman. Helena curtsied, and walked through the entrance room to the kitchen.

"What the hell is going _on_?" Eli questioned. Francie smirked smugly.

"Well Jay called me today, and said that she had been invited to Clare's house for the afternoon, before Clare and her brother would drop her off," she began, walking back into the sitting room. Eli followed in confusion. Francie resumed her place in a large armchair by the fire, a copy of _Vogue_ by her side. "So I decided that when they came over, I'd try and get them to have dinner with us! But I realised that the _Bingley_'s would have _dozens_ of servants, so I simply _had_ to find a maid, or we'd be the shame of the country," she explained. "I found her in the newspaper, an agency deals with them. I just had to call them, and there she was a few hours later!" she said gleefully.

"Francie, you've officially lost it," Eli informed her. She still smirked.

"Oh and that Bingley girl was just _lovely_, so polite and sophisticated, and so pretty!" she exclaimed. "And young Master Bingley was just the most _handsome_ boy I've ever seen, he'll do _perfectly_ for Jay!" she continued.

Eli sighed. Francie was enjoying England a little too much. She had always enjoyed being the top of the social ladder in Port Stephens, which wasn't saying much, because most of the area was made up of tourists and surfers, but she always had a taste for something more. The combination of Dorr's highly paid profession as a head editor at a popular publishing company and the money coming in from Francie's online beauty blog made for a vast collective income, enough for them to buy a good house in England, nice cars, and apparently, a maid. But now that there was even _more_ money coming from Dorr's job, Eli guessed that Francie felt it was time she moved up in society.

So her motive was to get all her girls married off to rich men. Eli thought it was disgusting, but as her blog got larger and larger, selling more cosmetics, getting more hits, and more advertisers using it as a resource, and Dorr kept on getting bonuses and raises, her mother's desire for money grew.

"I'm sure he will, Francie," she said tiredly. "I'm going to bed. That is – unless the maid has taken my room?" she questioned, frowning slightly.

"She's in the granny-flat, Eli," she replied curtly, ushering her away with a wave of her perfectly manicured hand.

"Whatever. I'm tired," she replied, slipping out of the sitting room, and walking through the entrance hall and up the stairs to her room. She closed the door quietly behind her, and sighed.

What the _hell_ had gotten into Francie? She was getting nervous about her money-grasping ways, but resolved to keep her nose out of it. Because if there was one thing she knew, it was that there was no reason behind _any_ of Francie's actions. She was just crazy.

~ * ~

It took Eli a few days week to get used to Helena's presence in the house. She was always _there_, cooking, cleaning, and she was _always_ happy to help. In the weekday mornings, when Eli was an early riser (on weekends you couldn't get her out of bed before noon for all the money in the world), she would even help the girls get ready for school. By the time Eli had showered, Helena would already have laid her uniform out on the bed, packed her bag, and was offering to do her hair.

Eli kept on telling her that it wasn't necessary, but she simply _insisted_. She liked doing her hair, she said. And she liked to show her how to put on makeup, and teach her little bits of Polish. Eli really did like her, even though she always felt guilty when Helena would be forced to spend half her day cooking for the family, and then the rest cleaning up.

"I don't mind, Miss Elisabet," she informed her one day, as she brushed her hair before school. "I like it very much, really. I like to cook and clean, it makes me feel useful," she explained.

"But _why_? Why don't you travel? Or go to University?" Eli questioned. Helena laughed.

"I am not so very smart, Miss Elisabet. And my family is very poor. This is luxury for me," she assured Eli. Her eyes widened. "I have my own room, my own bathroom, and a little kitchen! I even have a television in my bungalow, Miss Elisabet!" she informed her with delight. "I don't have to pay for food, or water, or electricity, I need to buy very little, so all my money will be saved, until I can buy my own little house one day," she said dreamily. "And I will have a husband, and babies, and I can look after them all day," she sighed happily. Eli laughed.

"Helena! There's a whole world out there!" she cried. Helena only laughed.

"But I don't want to see it, Miss Elisabet! I have seen enough sadness in the world, I am happy to live in a little house, looking after you and your family," she replied, smiling contentedly.

Helena made Eli's mind reel. Were there really people content to just work for others their whole lives? To dream of nothing more than a little house with a husband and babies? Were there people that really didn't want anymore than that? She could hardly comprehend such a simple existence, devoid of adventure and excitement.

"Wow… Eli, you look really pretty today," Jay commented, as Eli entered the kitchen for breakfast.

"Helena did my hair again," she explained, as if apologising. She shuddered at the sound of her mother's shrill voice drifting downstairs. Helena was preparing her to go out.

"Is your mother leaving the house for any specific reason?" Dorr questioned curiously, coming into the kitchen with a slight frown on his face. Eli shrugged, and poured a cup of tea out from the pot.

"She's going to their school today," Lyla informed him, poking at her low-fat low-taste cereal. She tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder, and pulled her already quite tight and low cut school shirt lower down on her chest. Dorr ignored her.

"She's not having another meeting with your headmistress, is she?" he asked his youngest daughter curiously. Eli shrugged.

"Probably. They're becoming friends, or something," she explained. He slowly nodded, and frowned.

"I think she had a few of those in Port Stevens," he muttered thoughtfully, before straightening his tie and jacket. He ran a hand through his greying dark brown hair, before the sound of Francie's shrill cries floated downstairs. He winced. "I'll be going then," he declared, giving Jay, who was walking past him, a quick kiss on the forehead. He glanced at Eli. "Study," he ordered sternly. Eli nodded like a well-trained puppy, her obedient dance rehearsed.

He left the kitchen just before Francie came down herself. She was dressed in her best coat and dress slacks, with a new silk blouse she had bought from some fancy label, Christian Louboutin heels clacking over the slate floors of the kitchen. Her perfectly coiffed golden curls fell around her face in an elegant style that only Helena seemed to be able to achieve, her makeup done to make her appear ten years younger than she was.

Eli didn't like to admit it, because she didn't like giving Francie _any_ praise, but she was a beautiful woman. She was tall and slender, her skin was still firm and almost wrinkle free for all her almost forty years of life, her hair was still just as golden as it had always been, her eyes were still a bright blue, and her lips always painted perfectly to give the best pout to them. She was a snappy dresser, if not somewhat indecent, and could pull most jewellery off. She used to do a fair bit of modelling in her youth, and would probably have been huge, had she not married Eli's father and had children so young.

But Dorian Bennett was an older, sophisticated, handsome man of great education and a good income. He cared little for Francie, she was beautiful and looked nice by his side, it didn't matter to him that she didn't have a single brain cell in her head, even a good eighteen years later he still only cared for her beauty. Eli resented him for that, she had to admit.

After all, Francie resented _her_, so why couldn't she resent _her_ parents? She wasn't a miniature model of her mother, like Lyla, Jay, and to a degree Kate, she took after her father. She was almost identical to her grandmother, a woman that her mother was never particularly fond of. Her hair and eyes are dark, her skin pale, her body small, unlike all her sisters. If she didn't look so similar to her father, one would never believe her relation to Francie.

"I'm meeting with your Headmistress again today," Francie declared, after ordering Helena to make her a cup of coffee. "She's a _lovely_ woman, and very pleased to see your results in your classes, Jay, Eli," she declared.

"_Mum_, why can't _we_ go to Rosings?" Lyla wined miserably.

"Yeah! I want to go!" Kate cried loudly.

"Oh my little darlings, not this term, they haven't any room for you yet!" she crooned, pouting her lips in sympathy for her little girls. "But soon, darlings," she assured them. Lyla gave her mother a puppy-eyed look, before Francie uttered a small sob. Her grief was quickly forgotten when Helena pressed a cup of hot coffee into her hands. Lyla gave a smug smirk when Francie began to babble on about taking her 'precious darlings' out shopping to make up for the disappointment of not being able to attend Rosings.

Eli rolled her eyes at the disgusting way that Lyla behaved. Lyla sent her a quick glare, but Eli just walked away, pulling a muffin out of the pantry.

She finished her muffin in the car as they drove to school, Francie babbling on about how splendid Char and Clare had behaved the other night at dinner. Jay had invited them over for the afternoon, truly believing that Clare was the nicest girl on the planet, and Eli had to admit, they had been quite courteous. That is, until Clare thought no one was listening, and she started to drone on about how horrid the whole family was. Except for Jay, of _course_. Eli knew she was full of it, but she never said so to Jay. She knew that Jay wouldn't believe her if she said so anyway.

Eli bid Francie a short goodbye before heading to music, her favourite class. If it weren't for Clare's constant poorly-disguised insults and Darcy's intense staring, she would never want to leave.

"Oh good, you're alive!" she greeted Llewellyn cheerfully as she stepped into the classroom. He chuckled in response, his amber eyes sparkling warmly. He had been out sick for a whole week, and looked rather exhausted, dark bags hanging beneath his eyes.

"Morning Eli, and sorry for leaving you with a substitute," Llewellyn replied cheerfully. "Did you get one of the notes about the auditions for the musical? They're still a fair bit away, but you should definitely be signing up," he added, his eyes twinkling as Eli beamed from ear to ear.

"I'll mark it on my calendar with stars and glitter," she promised sincerely. She couldn't wait to audition; she was determined to get the role of Christine, the lead. She turned, feeling a familiar tingling rush down her spine. Darcy was placing a violin case on the desk, before sitting down behind it. She was curious. She had heard that he was a good player, but she hadn't had a chance to hear him yet. Most of the time the entire class was focused on Clare, no one else had the balls to tell her to _stop singing_.

"Good morning," he greeted almost mindlessly, when she met his pale, almost violet eyes that burned right through her. She nodded in response, as people started to trickle in.

"Sir, where's my desk?" she asked curiously, frowning slightly at the empty space where she normally sat.

"Oh – I moved it out so we could have more room for the drums," Llewellyn replied simply, before turning back to his sheets. "You can sit over with Darcy, it made no sense that you and he both sat completely alone at two four-people desks," he said. Eli bit her lip, but moved over to take a seat at Darcy's desk anyway. She pulled out her folder and pencil case in silence. Being in such a close vicinity to him was somewhat… unnerving.

"So… how are you?" he asked her suddenly. She muttered 'fine' in a simple response. He said nothing, eying her hair. Her hand went to it unconsciously. Helena was responsible for it, of course. It was a pretty, slightly ornate bun that looked like something out of _Lost in Austen_, with a few loose curls framing her face, and one or two little clips with daisies on them woven through the bun. She was rather fond of it, actually.

"It's hair, Darcy," she informed him, growing nervous with his gaze.

"It's different today," he stated. Normally her hair was pulled back in a loose bun or a ponytail, her curls pinned out of her face. "It looks like you have daisies in it," he commented.

"They're clips," she informed him. He nodded slowly, still looking curiously at her hair. He made her feel annoyed. _He's so irritating!,_ she thought quietly to herself. And it was true; he was constantly looking at her with an intense, frowning expression, like something she had done had specifically insulted him!

"It's… pretty," she could swear he muttered, but he might have said something else. She couldn't possibly believe that he had called her hair pretty.

"I'm quite fond of daisies. Even though they're considered weeds," she said, unable to pass up on the opportunity. "The flowers are very pretty, despite the fact that they always seem to cause problems," she continued. He looked somewhat concerned, staring at her curiously, his brow furrowed in an expression of beautiful concern.

"Yes… they… they're pretty," he mumbled, after trying in vain to discern her meaning.

"Pretty, but not pretty enough to tempt you, right?" she questioned, her eyes dancing teasingly. She inwardly rejoiced as a look of shock passed his face. "These are Australian daisies; I got the clips in Sydney. But I guess that you're not interested by foreign slips – uh, I mean _clips_," she added, sending the final blow. His face drained of colour. The corners of her lips rose upwards, and she turned away from him, just as Llewellyn began the class.

Oh, she was so smug throughout the whole lesson. She had gotten the better of _Darcy_; she couldn't imagine a better treat! That atop the lead of _Someday I'll Fly Away _in the _Moulin Rogue _medley made her day perfect.

That is, until she got home. She took a bus back, because Jay had once again gone to spend the evening at Clare's, and Francie couldn't be bothered to pick her up. She knew something was wrong the moment that she stepped into the house; there was just something in the atmosphere.

"Helena? What's going on?" she questioned, as the familiar olive face of the maid rushed up towards her, concern flashing behind her dark eyes.

"It is Miss Jasmine, Miss Elisabet," she said softly. Eli's eyes widened.

"What's wrong with her? Isn't she at Clare's place tonight?" she questioned. Helena nodded quickly.

"She called a little while ago. She tripped down the stairs at her friend's house," she explained.

"What? Oh my God – is she alright?" Eli asked quickly, as Helena continued to remove the coat from her, and hang her bag up. "Was she hurt?"

"She hit her head, Miss Elisabet. She needs to rest, but your mother doesn't want her to come home," she explained. "She wants her to stay there with Master Bingley for as long as possible," she continued. Eli chewed on her lip in agitation.

"Well of _course_ she does – she's a selfish bitch!" she cried, rushing up the stairs, Helena hot on her heels. "I have to go see her! She could be seriously injured!" she said with determination.

"Miss Elisabet, I was going to go and bring her a few things so she can stay the night in a minute," Helena informed her.

"No, Helena, I'll do it, you stay here and relax," she waved her off. "I'll ride my bike over right now," she decided, tearing into her room. She started to pull off her uniform with haste, images of a bleeding, crippled Jay flashing through her head. What if she was seriously injured? Could she ever dance again? To take the ability to dance away from a ballerina was like taking the sky from a bird or the ocean from a fish!

"No, Miss Elisabet! Francine, she does not want that!" Helena objected.

"Helena, _please_, I need to see my sister," Eli said, turning around to face her. "Would you mind getting Jay a few things? Some pyjamas, her toothbrush, a book, that sort of stuff? I'll get changed and go over," she continued. Helena bit her lip, but nodded, and left the room.

Eli hastily changed into warm clothes before pulling her bedroom door open, and rushing into the hall.

"Miss Elisabet, I have Miss Jasmine's things, and these are yours," Helena said, passing her one of Jay's old ballet satchels, and Eli's slightly worn _Billabong_ backpack. Eli took them gratefully, kissed her cheek, and slipped out of the house before Francie knew that she had even arrived home.

She heard her screech from the house as she took her bike out of the shed by the side of the house, the padded seat practically made from ice, the cold biting at her face as the sun started to die, but she was already peddling down the street in the direction that she knew Clare and Char's house to be in. She vaguely recalled the street, and whilst she didn't know the number, she remembered that Jay had described the 'mansion' to her in detail. She could only hope that she would be able to pick it out.

Eli peddled faster as the light started to fade from the sky. The streetlights flickered on, but still she rode, the tires of her bike grinding into the icy slate covering the road. She fell to the ground several times, the ice too slippery to fully support her, but she just got right back on the bike, ignoring how terribly cold she was, focusing only on Jay. Was she alright? Was she in pain?

Eli didn't have a very good connection with her two other sisters. Jay and she were almost inseparable. Jay was the most perfect, wonderful person anyone could ever meet, who could help but love her?

It took her about three quarters of an hour to find the street, and another ten or fifteen to find the house. It was exactly as Jay had described it, in all its grandeur. It even had Clare's little red VW convertible out the front. Eli leant her bike against the side gate, and headed up to the door in haste, pressing the ornate doorbell so hard that she almost broke it.

Light spilled out into the dark night as the door opened. She was blinded momentarily, and took a moment to adjust her eyes to the sudden change of light.

"What are _you_ doing here?" she questioned, upon seeing Darcy standing in the doorway. He looked just as confused to see her as she him.

"I – I'm spending the long weekend with Char," he replied, sounding rather shocked. "What are _you_ doing here?" he asked.

"Helena told me that Jay called. She said she fell down the stairs," she explained quickly, the cold biting through her coat.

"Did you walk here?" he asked curiously, taking in her sleet covered clothes and slightly blue lips.

"I rode my bike," she answered, her teeth chattering slightly. "Is Jay alright?" she questioned, wanting to simply push past him and find her sister…

"She has a concussion. Bingley's father is a doctor, he checked her out," he informed her.

"Yeah, well is he sure? When was the last time he had a patient? This is my _sister_!" she objected, starting to grow stressed. Why couldn't Darcy just give her a straight, proper answer? How serious was Jay's concussion?

"I can assure you, young lady, I know what I'm doing," a stern voice said, as another figure appeared in the doorway. He was tall and slightly lanky, with wavy, greying fair hair and sharp blue eyes. He was the spitting image of an older Char.

"Did you know that Jay is allergic to penicillin?" she questioned sharply, putting her hands on her hips. She saw the tiniest of smiles flicker on the man's lips.

"I very much doubt that we would _need_ penicillin for a concussion, but it's good to know," he replied. Eli's cheeks burned, she knew that she was being somewhat irrational, but _dammit_, it was _Jay_! "And who might you be?" he questioned carefully, taking in the intruder's appearance.

"Jay's sister – Eli," she answered. "I heard she tripped down the stairs and needed to spend the night here, I wanted to see if she was okay, and I got her some pyjamas and a toothbrush," she explained.

"How did you get here, young lady?" Mr Bingley questioned curiously.

"I rode my bike," she answered. His eyes widened slightly in admiration, and then he smiled.

"Well come in then, you can go up and see Jay immediately," he said, sounding very much like Char.

"Daddy? Who is it?" she heard a familiar voice question as she stepped into the hallway. Clare's expression turned to one of distaste as she took in Eli's presence and appearance as she pulled off her beanie, scarf and gloves. "What are _you_ doing here?" she asked sharply.

"I came to see Jay," Eli answered pointedly, not feeling up to defending herself against _her_. Mr Bingley took her coat, beanie and scarf and hung them in the front closet, as she shoved her gloves in her pocket, and clutched onto Jay's old ballet bag.

"She's fine," Clare informed her coolly, as if that would get rid of her apparent mortal enemy.

"Listen, I don't want to trespass all over your fucking turf, I just need to see my sister, okay?" Eli assured her, her voice growing irritated.

"Is that some sort of Australian slang for 'being _rude_'?" Clare sneered in response.

Eli wanted to hit her.

"Clare, that's quite enough," her father scolded.

"I'll take her to see her sister," Darcy declared suddenly. Mr Bingley nodded, and Clare's jaw fell. Eli followed him before she could throw out another insult at her. "So why did you ride your bike here?" he asked curiously.

"Because my TARDIS is in the shop for repairs," she snapped sarcastically.

"Can't you drive yet?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Clearly not," she replied coolly.

"Don't you have a maid? You could have asked her to bring Jay her things," he pointed out. Eli let out an exasperated sigh.

"Do you have a sister, Darcy?" she asked him suddenly, stopping her pace halfway down the upstairs hallway. He almost ran into her, before regaining his composure.

"Yes," he replied warily.

"Well imagine if you came home one day, and she wasn't there. Imagine if you then get told that she _fell down the stairs_ at another person's house, and can't come home. With no information as to her wellbeing, or what even happened," she instructed. "_Then_ try and tell your maid to go and drop off a pair of pyjamas for her, and see if your conscience, if it even exists, will let you," she continued. A look of distaste shadowed his face for a moment, but it was gone again.

"It's that one," he said, pointing to a door. Eli nodded, and quickly rushed forwards, pulling it open with haste. She sighed with relief when she saw Jay sitting up in bed, looking weary and dazed, but very much alive. She had a great big welt on the left side of her forehead, and it looked _very_ painful.

"Eli?" she questioned almost dreamily. Eli guessed that she had been given painkillers, and was a bit out of it.

"Jay!" she cried out gratefully, rushing towards her, and practically throwing herself at the bed. She hugged her tightly, like a child holds their teddy, aware of a tingling down her spine, but she pushed it from her mind. Jay was safe. Nothing else mattered.

~ * ~

Darcy wondered vaguely why she had taken the daisies out of her hair as she pulled her beanie from her head. The moisture and chill in the air in combination with the heat from her body had caused the little strands escaping her bun to curl tighter, and in her eagerness to get here, more burgundy locks had fallen about her pale, glowing face.

She practically tore the excess clothing from her lithe form, her scarf, her coat, until he could see a smooth definition of curves and lines beneath her little grey jumper. His eyes traced the hills and valleys of her body as she spoke with agitation. Her dark eyes flashed angrily at something behind him. He wanted to turn and banish Clare from his presence, but he resisted. After all, if he simply did whatever he wished to do, Elizabeth Bennett would be wearing even less clothing than a jumper and jeans.

Her large, engaging eyes were wide and desperate with fear. He raked his gaze over her now familiar features, taking comfort in the almost angular curve of her jaw line, and the strong rise of her cheek bones, tinged pink with cold, as was the end of her perfectly proportioned nose. He wanted to kiss the blue from her normally red lips. Oh, how he wished to taste those lips, they looked ever so soft, like plump little red rose petals, pouting perfectly as her dark evergreen and red earth eyes flashed teasingly, framed by long, curly dark lashes and perfectly arched eyebrows, lending something terribly classical and formal to her appearance.

"I'll take her to see her sister," he managed to mutter, when her agitation grew. She gratefully followed him, the soft scent of her body butter wafting to his nostrils. It was lavender, with a slight hint of lemon, and ever so delicate. He could recall shooting out a quick question, and she handed him back a teasing, playful response as usual. He asked her another. She gave him another short, slightly curt answer.

Darcy questioned her as to why she felt such a need to see her elder sister, when she suffered only a minor injury. Elizabeth stopped, causing him to almost run into her. He gasped slightly as she glared up at him, her eyes alight, the colour returning to her perfect lips. She placed her hands on her hips, full breasts straining against the confines of her jumper as she spoke passionately.

Something she said filled him with guilt, but he couldn't quite recall what it was. He was completely entranced by a small, runaway curl caressing the smooth, pale skin of her uncovered neck. He had seen very little of her body. She always wore so much clothing at school, due to the sudden change of climate for her. She had such a lovely figure, such a pretty neck. Oh, what it would be to press a kiss against that beautiful neck and draw out his pleasure by caressing her soft, lovely skin with his lips… He felt it practically a crime that she persisted in wearing her coat to school everyday. It hid her divine body – perfection coming in Godly proportions – from the world, which was a horrible, horrible injustice to all mankind.

She disappeared into the room Jay had been placed in, granting him a momentary view of her slender but toned legs, and the curve of her – he felt like a pervert. But she was just so… lovely.

Darcy stood just outside the doorway to Jay's room, where she wouldn't see him watching her. She threw herself onto the bed passionately, wrapping her arms around Jay's frame. He wondered if he had underestimated her. She seemed so very compassionate.

Eli Bennett interested him. He barely knew her, to be honest, but he just couldn't get her out of his head. There was something about her that just seemed to linger wherever she went, and it wasn't just her perfume. A tingle down his spine was the only physical reminder of her presence, but there was more than just that. He could _feel_ her.

She looked up to see him standing in the doorway. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, and he took his leave. This was something between her and her sister.

**A/N: I think that was the first Darcy POV so far. There are quite a few coming up, this isn't exactly my favourite, seemed a bit soap-opera-ish to me, but oh well, it's about quarter past two in the morning and I can't be bothered to change it :D Hope you enjoyed, please review!**


	6. Clare the new cancer

"_Talk to the mirror, oh, choke back tears.  
And keep telling yourself that 'I'm a diva!'  
Oh, and the smokes in that cigarette box on the table,  
They just so happen to be laced with nitro-glycerine  
I'm the new cancer, never looked better, you can't stand it  
Because you say so under your breath,  
You're reading lips, 'When did he get all confident?'_"

-Panic at the Disco, 'There's a good reason these tables are numbered'

"How do you feel?" Eli questioned Jay, after determining that she was alive, and other than a bump on the head, no worse for wear. Jay shrugged, and smiled.

"I'm fine, Eli," she assured her sister. "I feel a bit dizzy and tired, but that's just the pain killers that Mister Bingley gave me. I'm going to spend the night here and go back tomorrow afternoon," she explained. Eli bit her lip.

"We could call Helena, I'm sure she'd be able to take us home right now," she suggested. "And you won't have to stay here with Bitchley Bingley," she added in an almost whisper. Jay gave a tiny laugh.

"No, Eli, I'm fine," she replied. Eli continued to chew her lip nervously.

"Well… okay," she murmured, before pulling forwards her old ballet bag. "I just grabbed a few things for you, in case you were spending the night. Helena packed it, so you know it's safe," she informed her, after passing over the bag. Jay smiled gratefully.

"Thanks, Eli. Shouldn't you call Mum or Dad or Helena? I don't want you to ride your bike home in the dark," she said. Eli laughed, and shrugged.

"I'll be fine, Jay," she promised her, getting up from the bed. "I'll come see you tomorrow. Good night," she added, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. Jay gave a tired smile, and settled down into the covers. Eli sighed, and left the room, heading down the hall again.

"Hello there!" she heard a cheerful voice greet her. Eli turned to see Char in the entrance hall, smiling beguilingly up at her as she descended the staircase.

"Hey Char, I just came to see if Jay was okay," she informed him, meeting him at the bottom of the stairs.

"Are you staying for dinner?" he asked hopefully. Eli wanted to laugh. Char was very friendly. She liked him, he was like a goofy older brother that she never had.

"No, I'm going to head home now," she replied. His eyes widened.

"But didn't you ride your bike over here?" he questioned incredulously. She nodded. "You can't ride your bike home! That's ridiculous!" he objected.

"I don't mind," she assured him with a smile. "I used to do it all the time in Australia, it's no bother. I've got strong legs," she added, her dark eyes twinkling.

"This isn't Australia," a deep, velvety baritone reminded her from behind. She turned, frowning slightly at Darcy's presence.

"No, really? Well that explains the freezing temperatures and distinct lack of joy," she retorted, turning back to Char, who was laughing. "Listen, it's not an issue. I rode over here, didn't I? I can do it again," she assured him.

"Perhaps you should stay here," Darcy suggested from behind her, stepping forwards, and placing a hand on her shoulder softly. It was a simple, small gesture, with minimal physical contact, meant to be polite, but it was _much_ heavier than that.

Touching another person isn't normally such an issue. It depends of course, on _where_ you touch the person, but in most situations, placing a hand on someone else's shoulder is a simple, almost natural act. But this was different. It was as if he had wrapped Eli up in a tight embrace.

She refocused on the conversation as Darcy removed his hand from her shoulder. She didn't want to admit that she missed the warmth there, but her attention was shifted, leaving little time for contemplation of that tiny, not unpleasant occurrence.

"Well Clare could lend her some clothes, I'm sure," she heard Char say. "They might be a bit big for her, but I don't think it'd be a problem," he added, glancing at her momentarily. "And she can stay in the room next to Jay, or even with her, if she wants to," he continued.

"What?" Eli exclaimed suddenly.

"Do you have your phone on you? You should call your parents, and tell them you're staying the night," Char questioned her.

"Uh… no, I'm _not_," she objected firmly. "Sorry Char, but I'm going home," she informed him firmly.

"It's no bother, Eli, really," he assured her. "We've got plenty of room, and you can borrow some of Clare's pyjamas for the night," he added. Eli shook her head vehemently.

"You'll be closer to Jay. You can keep an eye on her," Darcy pointed out quietly. Eli glanced up at him, confusion flashing over her face. What was he even _doing_ there?, she thought. And why was he poking his nose in her business? He was the most complicated puzzle she had ever met before.

"Come on Eli, just stay. We're about to have dinner anyway," Char practically begged. Eli chewed her lip.

"I'd much rather go home," she said honestly.

"Going home now would be ridiculous. Just spend the night here, and go back with Jay tomorrow afternoon," Darcy instructed her. She frowned slightly.

"I could call Helena, and ask her to pick me up. Or Dorr, he wouldn't mind," she objected.

"What's the point if you can just stay here? It'll save a car trip," Char pointed out. Eli's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Do I even have a choice anymore?" she questioned with growing frustration. Darcy shook his head, and she let out an exasperated growl of irritation. "Fine! But your sister isn't going to be happy about this," she pointed out to Char. He chuckled.

"Don't worry, she likes you well enough," he assured her. "Come on then, we're about to have dinner," he informed her, gesturing to one of the doors leading off the hallway.

"After you," Darcy murmured to Eli. She glanced up, and met his eyes once more. She was quite sure that she preferred him when he was silent, which was about ninety-nine point nine percent of the time. He was just too confusing to be around, one moment insulting her behind her back, and the next acting like a polite little gentleman. Didn't he have _any _consistency?

"Thanks," Eli muttered in response, following Char through the hallway. She soon found herself in an elaborate dining room with a long mahogany table, Mister Bingley, Clare and Celosia already sitting down, a tall, pale haired woman with a sharp expression between them. Eli guessed her to be Mrs Bingley.

"Mum, Dad, I've asked Eli to spend the night here. It's too dark for her to ride her bike back, and she reluctantly agreed," Char informed his parents.

"Can't she get someone to pick her up?" Clare sneered angrily, sending Eli a fiery glare. Eli wondered what her problem was with her basic existence – but said nothing.

"I could always give her a lift home, you know, Clare," Darcy said from somewhere close behind her. Clare's eyes widened, and a tinge of pink rose to her cheeks.

"Oh… that's okay, she can stay," she managed to squeak out as a response. Eli wanted to laugh, but she hid it back, and took the seat offered to her.

"So – you're Elizabeth Bennett?" Mister Bingley questioned. Eli nodded. "Jay's told us a lot about you. She said you're quite the gifted student," he commented.

"Jay has an amazing ability to see the best in everyone, and focus only on that," Eli said slowly. "In this case, my abilities were probably sensationalised. I'm actually quite annoying, she probably didn't mention that," she added, with a small grin. Mister Bingley chuckled.

"But I don't think she was exaggerating – she's very proud of you, you know," he added. Eli chewed her bottom lip nervously.

"Well I'm very proud of Jay, too," she replied, casting her eyes downwards. "She's an amazing dancer, and a wonderful person. Anyone would be proud to have her as a sister," she said.

"And do you have any other siblings?" he asked curiously.

"Two more older sisters, Lyla and Kate," she answered.

"Oh! Are you the youngest too?" Char questioned excitedly. Eli nodded, with a small grin.

"Charmont, you're youngest by three minutes. Hardly a record," the elder woman, Mrs Bingley, Eli assumed her to be, said curtly. Eli got the impression she was a rather stern person. Her glares weren't as intense as Clare's, but they certainly weren't filled with sunshine and lollipops. "So, Elizabeth, you're Australian," she stated.

"Uhh… yes," Eli answered, wondering if George Knightly would mind lending the woman his _Captain Obvious_ tee-shirt. "As is Jay," she added, unsure if the woman had missed out on that titbit of information.

"And your nationality?" she questioned.

_Hasn't she asked Jay all of this before_? Eli thought to herself.

"I would have asked your sister, Jasmine, but I only returned from Paris this afternoon, and haven't had a chance to… find these things out," she informed her, obviously sensing her concern at the inquisition. Eli gave a small 'ah' of realisation. So the woman was asking _her_ questions to determine the suitability of Jay for Char, she guessed.

"Well, both my parents were Australian born, so were my grandparents, and on my mother's side is mostly Northern European heritage, I think her grandparents immigrated to Sydney just after World War II from Switzerland," she began slowly, casting her memory back. "Dorr was born an Australian, but he travelled a bit when he was younger. Dorr has a mixture of French and Australian heritage. Unfortunately –" hiding her sarcasm – "we don't have any British background," she informed her.

"_Dorr_? Is that some sort of Australian word for 'father'?" Mrs Bingley asked almost curtly, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

"No, it's just what I call him. His first name is Dorian," she answered simply.

"You call your father by his first name?" Mrs Bingley almost sneered. "Do your other siblings do this too?" she questioned with distaste.

"No, just me," Eli replied, shaking her head. The silence that ensured was broken by the sounds of a maid bustling in, bearing a large porcelain bowl filled with some kind of soup. She placed it on the table, and began filling dishes with its contents.

"And tell me, what do your parents do, Elizabeth?" Mrs Bingley asked, when the soup had been served.

"Dorr is the head editor for _Manifest Publishing_, and Francie runs a popular beauty website," she answered calmly. Mrs Bingley seemed to be adding up numbers in her head, until she came to some sort of acceptable conclusion. She looked Eli up and down slowly.

"And you say you keep a maid, do you not?" she questioned, her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Yes, we do," Eli answered simply.

"And where do you live?" she asked then.

"Loungbourn Avenue," she replied.

"That's a lovely street. Isn't that a lovely street, Clarissa?" Mr Bingley commented. Mrs Bingley sent him a short, slightly curt glance.

"Tell me about your grandparents. What did they do?" she then questioned.

"Dorr's parents died a long time ago, he doesn't talk about them, so I don't know," Eli replied simply, growing angered at the constant questionings. "And Francie's father is dead too, but her mother still lives in Australia. He did something to do with law, but I have no idea what," she said honestly. Mrs Bingley raised an eyebrow.

"Tell me about your sister, Jasmine, please, Elizabeth," she requested. Eli wanted to groan aloud, but held it in.

"Well, she's turning eighteen in June, she's been taking formal ballet lessons since she was five years old, she used to dance for the Royal Academy of Dance back in Australia, she was accepted there when she was twelve years old, started on points when she was eleven, she loves the colour blue, sunny days, the beach, she swims breaststroke like you won't believe, and her dream is to become a famous professional ballerina," she recited off the top of her head. "She's extremely good at whatever she wants to do, she's the sweetest girl in the world, and she goes after what she wants with determination," she added.

"You praise her very highly," Mr Bingley pointed out to Eli.

"Not high enough, really," she answered simply, with a slight shrug of the shoulder.

Eli felt quite uncomfortable. She wanted to leave. She wanted to go home. She wanted to be sitting in her bedroom, with Jay lounging around on her opium bed, perhaps playing the piano, or reading a good book, not at a very uncomfortable table setting, all eyes on her, as her sister slept upstairs in an unknown bed with a giant welt on the side of her head. She was _very_ uncomfortable.

"So _Eliza_, I trust you've been practising your pieces?" sneered Clare pointedly. Eli turned, and hid the urge to call Clare out with her intentional use of such a horrible nickname.

"Yes, I have," she answered simply. "Llewellyn gave me all of my sheets. I've been working on them at home," she added. Clare's face went slightly pink.

"And _which_ pieces did you get?" she asked, her voice slightly angered.

"Well the song from _The Phantom_, Satinne in the _Moulin Rogue_, and a few other songs that we haven't looked at yet," she answered.

"The Phantom? You got a piece from _The Phantom of the Opera_?" Mrs Bingley exclaimed, her pale eyes widening in shock. "That's a very advanced part – _I_ was under the impression that Professor Llewellyn gave it to Clare!" she cried, looking between Eli and her daughter in disbelief.

"He changed his mind," Clare practically spat, sending Eli a fierce glare.

"But isn't _The Phantom of the Opera_ this year's musical production?" Mrs Bingley questioned sharply.

"Yeah, but just because I'm doing the song in class doesn't mean I've got the part in the musical," Eli pointed out. "And anyway, Clare, you still have the _Disney_ medley, and most of the female vocals in _Prince of Egypt_, you know," she added.

"Have you had any formal opera training, Elizabeth?" Mrs Bingley questioned coolly. Eli met her eyes, raising her chin slightly.

"No. I'm self-taught," she answered calmly.

"Then _why_ were you given a piece from _The Phantom of the Opera_ when Clare has been taking opera lessons for five years?" she asked in pointed response. "Can you even _sing_ the part?" she questioned, her voice growing strained and sharp.

"Llewellyn wouldn't have given it to me if he didn't think I could," she replied simply.

"Mum, leave her alone. Jay said she's really good," Char requested of his mother, who only let her scowl grow more pronounced.

"Charmont, I'm merely engaging in a simple discussion," she snapped curtly at him. "I was only concerned that a part too difficult for Elizabeth would cause irrevocable damage to her vocal chords. Perhaps it's best that a more mature, properly trained opera singer performs the _Phantom_ medley. And it's not wise to give you hope that you'd get the part in the musical, what with Clare being a shoe-in and all," she reasoned.

"I can do it, Mrs Bingley," Eli informed her, growing angered. "I may not have as much training as your daughter, and I my vocal chords might not be as 'mature', but I can do it," she said firmly. Mrs Bingley met her eyes with a slight sneer.

"I didn't _doubt_ you, Elizabeth Bennett," she said curtly. "I'm sure you can _do_ it. My concern is whether or not you can do it _well_," she practically spat. Eli bit back a sharp, and angry response. Her eyes were angered and alight at being treated with such disdain.

"Well, clearly Professor Llewellyn thinks I'm the best person for the job, or he wouldn't have given me the part over more trained and mature singers," she replied slowly, measuring out her words calmly. Char started to laugh, Clare turned pink, Celosia said nothing, as usual, and Mrs Bingley's painted lips curved downwards, her fair brows furrowed together. Mr Bingley looked disappointed in his wife, but it was Darcy's reaction that caused her the most surprise. He met her eyes with his noble, proud mien, and nodded slowly. His expression didn't differ much from its usual, but something flickered about his eyes and lips, something suggesting… that he was _impressed_ by her, perhaps?

"I'm sure," Mrs Bingley finally spat out, her face still red.

"Maybe I should go," Eli said, making a move to leave the table, tearing her eyes away from Darcy's.

"No! Good God, I wouldn't want you to have to go out in that cold, Elizabeth," Mr Bingley urged her. "No, stay here, finish your meal, then you and the other children can spend some time together before bed," he suggested, his voice sounding quite jovial and good-natured, but still held more seriousness than Char's cheerful responses to everything. Eli wondered where he got it – since his mother and sisters seemed so cold.

"Hey, maybe you and Clare could do a duet, or something," Char suggested with a grin. "Oh! And Darcy too! You'd be like your own band," he laughed cheerfully, slapping his friend on the back. Darcy barely flinched, but his eyes widened slightly, and he looked a little annoyed. It was slightly amusing.

"I'm sure you girls would love that," Mr Bingley replied, before raising his spoon to his mouth.

Eli ate in silence as the conversation turned to the usual – 'so what did you do today?' and 'how is so and so and what's going on with this and that', preferring to sit back quietly. She wanted to go home.

Dinner took another half hour, and by that time, Eli was one step away from scratching out her own eyeballs. She rose with the rest of the table, and moved to one of the many drawing rooms in the house with the Bingley triplets and Darcy, Mr and Mrs Bingley leaving them to their own devices for the night.

Eli knew she looked slightly nervous as she stepped into the drawing room. Clare moved instantly to a baby grand by the roaring fireplace, Char to the couch with some sort of gaming magazine, Celosia on an armchair with her phone practically glued to her hands, and Darcy went and stood by one of the windows. She looked around curiously. It was quite a nice room, rather large, with all the walls lined with books. She grew excited as she moved over to look at the titles, only to be disappointed. They were all about old medical cases over the years.

She finally settled on a little window seat, taking with her the backpack that she had brought. She fished through it curiously, wondering what Helena had put in there with such haste. She smiled when she realised that Helena had obviously expected her to stay for at least a little while. It had her 'everything' book, as she called it, some pens and pencils, her phone, her ipod, and a few of her schoolbooks. She took her journal out, grateful at the release she knew she could soon find.

**3rd of February, 2009**

**7:08pm**

Dear Journal,

So _somehow_ I ended up at the Bingley's place in Netherfield drive. How? I have no idea. All I know is that I came to rescue Jay – only to be imprisoned myself.

This well and truly sucks. I was so worried about Jay! She fell down the stairs and hit her head, so she's got a great big welt on her forehead and a mild concussion, she's sleeping it off. She's going to be staying the night, and apparently, so am I. I'm not exactly very enthusiastic about the prospect, I can assure you, particularly after I just had a near-shouting match with Clarissa (the irony is killing me. She really _is_ like the evil bitch in Harry Potter) Bingley after she freaked out about me getting her daughter's part. Why does everyone seem to hate me in England?

I'd admit that I have a tendency to be a bit rude sometimes. But it's really only to people that are bitchy to me first, you see. But it doesn't explain why Clare Bingley hates me so much! Is it because I got the song from _The Phantom_? Does she think that I'm going to steal her part in the musical? I don't think it is – she seemed to hate me before she even knew I was going to be in her music class. In fact, she looked at me like I were filth from the moment she met me! Unfair or _what_?

Watched a movie the other day. _Wild Child_. Made me laugh. English schooling is pretty much exactly how they depicted it.

Darcy is staring at me again. He's been doing that a lot. I don't really get it – he's _got_ a girlfriend, he said himself that I'm not pretty enough for him, I _know_ that he doesn't exactly think all that well of my manners, intellect or musical skills, so why on _earth_ is he always looking at me?

I think it's because he's anal. And he's trying to find every single thing that's wrong with me. Maybe it makes him feel better about himself? Urgh – he's so frustrating! _Always_ staring, _never_ speaking, sending death glares to anyone that comes up to talk to him!

I was sitting in the student lounge yesterday during my study – I might have mentioned this before, but unfortunately Darcy and I have study periods on at the same time – doing my essay for English Extension, and _he_'s in there, tapping away at his fancy laptop, doing some sort of school work. Well, I assume it was school work. He looked awfully focused, so it might have been porn, or something like that. But _anyway_, he's sitting in there, glancing over at me every now and then, (probably to see if I act like _Kath & Kim_ when I think no one's looking), and this guy came in.

I didn't know who he was, but I was pretty sure that he was in the year above me. He was pretty hot, I'll admit, even though I'm not that big on 'pretty boys', but he had nice hair. A sort of sandy colour, a little lighter than Professor Llewellyn's, and really nice blue eyes. I'd seen him around a few times, and I recognised his face (it's a tough one to forget), but I hadn't really taken much notice of him. Anyway, he came into the lounge, and sat down on one of the couches near mine. I didn't say anything, I just kept on staring at my laptop (note to self, might need to get a silicon cover for my laptop. People keep looking at it because it's blue and has care bear stickers on it.) like a good little study-person, pretending that I didn't know he was looking at me.

So anyway, this guy is flicking through a magazine that someone left on the couch, glancing up at me every now and then. By that stage I was already working him into a character profile (see my idea for _Jacques Petards_ a few pages before. Oh, and those sketches don't do him justice – this guy is _hot_) and didn't even notice that Darcy was looking at me again.

But all of a sudden, the guy just gets up, and goes over to Darcy. I looked up then, just to see what was going on. I had headphones on at the time, and they were all the way across the other side of the room, so I couldn't hear what was being said. But the guy was saying something to Darcy, and he was ignoring him, like he had no idea who he was, and didn't care. The guy gave up after a while, and left.

How could Darcy be so _rude_? Someone was talking to him and he just ignored the poor guy! He's really starting to piss me off. Emilia and Charlotte keep assuring me that he's just a little weird around people, but I think it's more than that.

He makes out like… he's _better_ than anyone else, and that he doesn't need to condescend to everyone else's levels. That kind of pride pisses me off _so_ much.

But at least I hardly have to see him. I can't wait until Dorr caves and lets me go to University so I can ditch Rosings Park – and so I can ditch people like Clare Bingley and Darcy.

Oh great, he's looking at me again. Well, I've got to go. Maybe I can find some things to make a voodoo doll of him…

~ * ~

Eli finished her entry silently, and readjusted her position on the window seat. She had blocked out almost everything in the room, particularly Clare's assassination of the piano. She was running scales up the keys and stretching her vocals, Eli almost certain that it was to intimidate her into thinking that she was the better performer, and deserved _The Phantom_. She glanced around the room to see that little had changed, except Darcy had relocated to an armchair with his laptop. She caught him sending her a silent glance, and he turned away.

"You're doing _homework_ on a Friday night?" Clare sneered finally, noting that Eli was no longer scribbling into her notebook.

"It's not homework, it's my journal," Eli replied simply.

"Your _journal_? Oh, this is just _too_ good to pass up!" she practically squealed, leaping up from her seat behind the piano. "Give it to me – I just want a little peek," she requested. Eli held it tightly to her chest.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me, it's _private_," she said vehemently, shaking her head. Clare's predatory grin only grew.

"Ooh, did you write about all the boys you have crushes on then? That's _so_ cute. I'd expect that from a thirteen year old, don't feel bad about it," she said, reaching out to take it from her.

"I'm not thirteen – I'll be sixteen in a month, and it's _still_ none of your business!" Eli objected, sliding onto the floor, and stepping back, still clutching her journal. She couldn't believe that Clare wanted to look at it! Had she no decency?

"What do you write in there? Do you have boy's initials surrounded by little hearts? Emo poems that you've made up?" she questioned excitedly, like some sort of large creature on the prowl.

"Fuck off Clare, I'm not letting you touch _anything_ of mine," Eli objected.

"Clare! Leave her alone, it's private!" Char cried, realising what was going on.

"But I just want a little look! Isn't it cute? I used to have a diary when I was a child, too," she crooned. Eli's face burned an angry shade of red. She was trying to overcome her built in mechanism of being polite in other people's houses and give the bitch a swift kick in the behind.

"Alright – let's get this straight. I'm _not_ a child, it's _not _a diary, and you _can't_ look at it," she said firmly, holding it tightly in her arms. "It's private. I wouldn't ask to see _your_ journal," she added.

"Clare, just leave it," Char advised.

"Oh _shutup_ Charmont, why don't you go check on your little girlfriend? I just want a _little_ look," she almost spat to her brother, before turning back to Eli with a too-sweet smile. "Come on, just a little look," she begged.

"_Not on your life_," Eli replied firmly. Clare's smile disappeared, replaced by an angry scowl.

"You're being _rude_, Eliza," she spat. Eli opened her mouth to object, but before she knew it, Clare had struck, lunging forwards to rip the book from her hands.

"Give that _back_, it's private!" Eli cried angrily, reaching to take it back, but Clare was much taller and stronger than she was. She laughed almost manically as she held it above Eli's head, looking up to see what was written there.

"_Today couldn't have been worse_," she began to read in a mocking, high pitched voice, as Eli desperately scrambled to get her journal back, but Clare only continued to push her away with her free hand. "_Dorr still isn't budging on this whole 'England' idea. He's refusing to see any sort of reason – he's completely blinded by this desire to get out of Australia all of a sudden_," she continued. Char was shouting something at his sister in anger, but she took no note. "_I can't understand what's going on in his head. He wants to rip us up from the roots and throw us on a plane to ENGLAND? I've never felt more horrible in my entire life, I can't believe he would do this to ­– _Char!" Clare screeched, as the book was pulled from her grasp.

Eli's face was bright red, and tears were stinging her dark eyes. Her mouth was filled with a horrible, horrible taste.

"Why the hell would you do that? How could you be such a –" she began angrily, not stopping her struggling. She wanted to rip the bitch's face off for what she had done.

"Clare – that was probably the worst thing you've ever done," Char interrupted her, his voice low and calm, but tinged with anger. He was holding Eli back with one of his strong arms, as she struggled to cause harm to Clare. "You could see that it was upsetting her. How could you be so cruel?" he questioned, the irritation rising in his voice.

"Oh come off it Char, it was just a little fun," she giggled in response, fluttering her eyelashes over at Darcy, who still sat in his armchair, computer on his lap, looking at the scene in silence. Clare curled a strand of scarlet hair around her finger playfully. Darcy just looked disgusted.

"She hasn't done anything to you – you just read out her own personal thoughts to a group of people that she barely knows, and now you're _laughing_ about it?" Char questioned incredulously.

"Oh _come now_, you had to admit, it was pretty funny!" Clare replied, rolling her eyes teasingly at his scorning. "It was so boo-hoo, my life is an empty black abyss," she drawled.

"You vile piece of –" Eli began, but she was held back by Char when she made to lunge for Clare, who only laughed once more, practically shrieking with amusement. Eli wiped tears from her cheeks with the back of her hands in haste, wishing that she could simply tear Clare Bingley limb from limb.

"Eli, I apologise on behalf of my sister, sometimes she can be quite _rude_," he said, sending a quiet glare to Clare, who only rolled her eyes. He pressed her journal into her hands with a small, warm smile. He gave her a small, comforting hug.

"Aw, this is _so_ cute," Clare drawled sarcastically, glancing over to her nails. "Hey Darcy, can we do a duet together? How about _A Whole New World_?" she suggested excitedly, fluttering her eyelashes towards the object of her affections.

"I'm not in the mood, Clare," he replied simply, turning back to his laptop. "I've had enough entertainment tonight," he added.

Eli wanted to kill _him_, too. How could he just sit there, only a few feet away from she Clare, and not do anything to help her? Couldn't he see that it was upsetting her? How could he be so _cold_? So _unfeeling_? And why did he seem to be taking enjoyment out of her suffering? Why had he called it 'entertainment'?

She wanted to leave then, more than ever.

"Char, I want to go home," she murmured quietly, holding her diary tighter still to her chest.

"Don't worry sprout, I'll talk to Clare. Relax a little, okay?" he replied softly, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, meeting her eyes with a small smile. She nodded slowly, blinking away the remains of her tears, sniffling quietly, feeling very much like a puppy that had been kicked when it was down. "Oh, and by 'talk', I mean I'm going to put a snake in her bed," he added with a grin. She let a laugh slip from her lips, and gave another nod. Char patted her shoulder, and she moved back over to the window seat.

She hated Clare for what she had did, admired Char for his ability to comfort her, but she simply couldn't understand why Darcy had just… sat there, doing nothing. His inactions was almost as bad as Clare's actions.

Oh, how she hated the pair of them.

~ * ~

Clare was in a bad mood.

First of all, her friend had fallen down the stairs. It scared the living daylights out of her, how could Jay be so inconsiderate and clumsy, causing such a shock to her host! And _then_, the little brat Eliza Bennett _had_ to turn up, using some flimsy excuse to throw people off the track. But Clare knew better, the tart had only come for Darcy, even if her effect on him was rather counteractive. How could _anyone_ ignore the fact that she was _covered_ in sleet, her face bright red, her hair in a frazzle, wearing _sneakers_ and _jeans_, for God's sake?

She had hated Eliza Bennett from the moment that they met. She was pretty and skinny but actually had a chest, and damn her eyes! How _dare_ she just turn up and try to steal everything? First she had to suck up to Emilia Woodhouse – even though she herself had given up on trying to be friends with her, she was so hard to impress – then she just _had_ to steal her song the musical assignment, not to mention basically threaten that she was going to take the lead in the musical, and _then_ she decided to sink her claws into Darcy!

Eliza Bennett _deserved_ that little stunt she pulled on her. She only wished that it had been executed a little smoother, maybe even with a mention about how she wanted to steal Darcy for herself thrown in there to make things dramatic. How did _she_ know that it was all going to be a sob story about moving to England?

She angrily glared at Eliza from across the room. She was sitting by the window again, taking the pins out of her hair, allowing her long, rich and silky curls to fall over her shoulders. Clare bitterly watched Darcy stare over at the brat, as if he were entranced as she ran her fingers through them. He was looking at her in the way that Clare had always desired, like she were the most beautiful creature in the world.

"Oh, isn't she so _unfortunate_ looking?" Clare had commented a few days earlier, catching him looking at her from across the room in the student lounge. She was by the fire with Emilia Woodhouse and Charlotte Lucas, chatting and laughing away like bratty school-girls.

"Who?" he questioned simply, turning back to his laptop in silence. Clare _wished_ that he genuinely didn't care about how Eliza Bennett looked, but she knew the truth.

"Why, Eliza, of course!" she exclaimed.

"Elizabeth? Elizabeth Bennett? What makes you think that?" he questioned, clearly glad for the excuse to look up, and glance over at her.

"She – she's just so _plain_! Not like Jay of course, I mean, it's a wonder they're actually _related_!" Clare pointed out. Darcy didn't take his eyes away from her.

"I wouldn't say that," he replied simply, giving a slight shrug. "She has a very elegant attractiveness to her, like something out of a 1920s theatre. Jasmine is pretty, yes, and there's definitely a difference between them, but only because Elizabeth lacks Jasmine's softness of features. I'd say that whilst Elizabeth is a bit more unusual in her appearance, she's more attractive than Jasmine," he commented. "Jasmine is beautiful, yes, but Elizabeth is stunning. What _you_ perceive as unfortunate features lend something very startling to her face," he added.

"Humph. I didn't realise that you were in love with her already," Clare snapped bitterly. Darcy rolled his eyes.

"Why do girls always have to do that? Romanticise _everything_?" he questioned with irritation. "She's attractive. That doesn't mean that I love her, just that I like to look at her," he practically snarled.

"But she's just so… _ordinary_," sneered Clare. Darcy sighed, growing irked.

"She's the _last_ person I would call ordinary, Clare," he replied coolly.

"Well then, tell me what you find the most attractive about her, so every other girl in the world can mimic it?" she asked sarcastically.

"Her eyes," he replied. Clare was slightly shocked, she hadn't expected an answer. "She has a striking combination of dark hair, big dark eyes, red lips and pale skin. All her features are quite perfect, but her eyes are just…" he trailed off appreciatively.

"Just a boring shade of hazel, I'd say," Clare lied. She too, had noticed Eliza Bennett's eyes, and wished she had them in secret.

"No, they're very unusual. I'd call them charcoal-green and red earth. I've never seen any like them," he replied thoughtfully. "Not to mention the expression within them – no artist could ever capture that sparkle," he added, finally turning back to his laptop. Clare hid back a little _humph_ of disagreement.

She frowned at the memory. So _what_ if Darcy found that little brat attractive – he was turning nineteen in November! She wasn't even sixteen yet! There wasn't a chance in hell that they would _ever_ be together.

"You know what, Eliza," Clare announced suddenly. "I've been thinking about what I did, and perhaps it was a little cruel," she stated. The brat looked up, her big dark eyes rising to meet hers. She was frowning angrily. "Why don't you come over here, and we can play a few songs together? You play the piano, right?" she questioned.

"I have absolutely no desire to play the piano for _you_, Clare," she practically spat.

"Oh, well that's alright! You must be a little tired. I'll give you a few minutes then!" she said in a false cheerful voice, rising up from the piano stool, and beginning to stroll around the room, her chest thrust out. "Why don't you walk around the room with me for a little while? I'm sure it'll get you in the musical-mood," she suggested.

"No."

"Oh come now, it'll be nice!" Clare said, her fake sweet tones hinting at sharpness. She took Eliza by the arm, pulling her up to her feet, and beginning to walk around the room. Eliza pulled back forcefully, tugging her arm away. Clare grabbed it again, and practically dragged her away from the window seat.

She achieved her result. Darcy looked up at them, instead of simply staring at his laptop. His eyes were trained on Eliza Bennett, however, making her taste of victory grow bitter and cold.

"Are you crazy? What's the purpose of this?" Eliza questioned with irritation, reluctant to allow Clare to tug at her so. She finally pulled away with anger, staring at her in disgust.

"Want to join us, Darcy? It's nice to walk around a room like this, to stretch your legs," she said, ignoring Eliza's objections.

"I'm fine here, Clare. I'd only be intruding, anyway," he replied, glancing back at his laptop.

"Intruding? No! Why do think that?" she replied, flashing him a large smile. He didn't even notice it.

"Because you could only be walking around the room for two reasons – to talk to each other, or to look pretty," he stated simply. "With the first motive I would _definitely _be getting in your way, and with the second, you probably wanted me to sit and watch you from here anyway," he continued. Eliza laughed. She hadn't gone back to her window seat yet.

"But why would we do _that_, Darcy?" Clare questioned coyly, trying to sound like her plan hadn't just been foiled.

"Because girls know full well that their breasts are more obvious on profile, and it's easier to be on profile when you're walking past me," he replied almost mindlessly. Eliza gave another laugh.

"He's such a playboy sometimes, Eliza," Clare said with forced laughter.

"Really? You're a man-wench, Darcy?" she questioned, her dark eyes twinkling playfully, her full red lips curved upwards into a smile. She stepped away from Clare, almost gladly, but didn't return to her window seat, simply strolled.

"Not at all," he replied simply, meeting her dark eyes with his pale ones.

"We should punish him, though, for trying to call us out when we had very innocent intentions," Clare threw in. "How should we do that then, Eliza?" she questioned.

"We could tease him. Laugh at him. Give him a taste of his own medicine," she said simply, but she spoke as if Clare was no longer in the room.

"Oh no, there's nothing to tease him about. He's too perfect, you see!" she explained. Eliza snorted.

"Yeah, right. I wasn't born yesterday," she replied sarcastically. "Just because you idolise him doesn't make him perfect," she said coolly. Clare turned pink, but said nothing. "So do _you_ consider yourself 'perfect' too, Darcy?" she questioned, turning back to him.

"Not at all," he replied. "I've got plenty of faults. Everyone has," he admitted. "I just do my best to have as few as I possibly can," he added.

"And I take it you don't consider _vanity_, _pride_ or _conceit_ faults then?" she questioned coolly. But there was something playful and arching about her manner that didn't really make it look like an insult, more like… a teasing little remark.

"Vanity and conceit, yes. But pride is hardly a fault – as long as it's justified," he said simply, practically forgetting that his laptop even existed.

"Hmm. So _do_ you have any faults, or should I believe _Clare_ about that one?" she questioned, examining her nails without interest.

"Of course I have faults, I never denied it. I just don't consider pride as a fault – and even so, I try to avoid it," he replied. Eliza snorted slightly. "My biggest fault is that I don't find it easy to forgive and forget. I have trouble overlooking the faults of others," he admitted after hearing her objection to his earlier statement.

"I'd consider that a pretty _big_ fault. I'd also call it pride," she stated. He shook his head.

"Well then that's the difference between us," he replied.

"One of many, I'm sure," she retorted. He raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe. Maybe not," he shrugged.

"How about a game?" Clare suggested suddenly, growing anxious at the rising tension between Eliza and Darcy.

"Why don't I go home, and the rest of you play incest? That's a game the whole family can enjoy," Eliza suggested sarcastically.

"I'm not related to any of them," Darcy pointed out to her. She raised an eyebrow, and glanced over at Clare.

"My mistake," she said simply, returning to her window seat.

"I'm serious, let's play a game!" Clare suggested once more. Char rolled his eyes tiredly, and Celosia stayed silent, continuing to text her stupid boyfriend Edward Hurst in the corner.

"_No_, Clare," Char said sternly. She could tell he was still angry over that whole reading Eliza's diary out loud thing. It was an hour ago! Couldn't he get over it already?

"Well _I_ want to play a game!" she objected.

"How about the sit down and shutup game?" he suggested. She threw out her bottom lip in a miserable pout.

"Listen, this is all getting to be too much excitement for me to bear. I might just go upstairs now and check on Jay," Eliza announced.

"If you wanted to get some sleep now, that'd be fine," Char offered. She smiled thankfully in return.

"That'd be good. I'll just stay with Jay tonight, I think," she said.

"Come on then, I'll give you a hand finding everything," he said eagerly. He sounded pleased to be seeing Jay, rather than showing her around. She thanked him with another smile, picked up her bag, and allowed him to lead her out of the parlour.

Clare took a seat on the couch miserably. She glanced over to Darcy.

He was staring at the spot where Eliza Bennett had been sitting.

What a horrible day it had been.

**A/N: One reviewer commented that my characters all seem the same in my other stories. I've tried to make them as difficult as possible, but I feel that it's not until later in the story where you see the true differences between Eli and Loli or Ella, however, I **_**do**_** know that this Darcy is very different, and the plot is also very different. I apologise if it seems a little wooden to you, but I guess that's one of the perils of fanfiction writing :S Please review! :D**


	7. Of Debating and Midnight Meetings

"_I know I don't know you,_

_But I want you,_

_So bad_

_Everyone has a secret,_

_Can they keep it?_

_Oh no they can't,"_

_-_Maroon Five, 'Secret'

Darcy couldn't have been angrier with himself. He had just sat there whilst Clare read out Elizabeth's diary! How could he be so cruel to her?

He reminded himself that he wasn't there to rescue her. She had no ties over him, no control; she was just some girl in his music class. Some incredibly attractive girl in his music class.

But he just couldn't understand why he hadn't helped her. Did a part of him _want_ to hear about her secret thoughts and dreams? Had he expected his own name to come up somewhere? How would he have reacted to that?

He resolved to think of it no longer as he turned over in bed. He glanced at the digital clock to his left, and sighed. It was three in the morning. He sat up, and, running a hand through his dark hair, decided to get up and go to the bathroom.

As he stepped into the hallway, he squinted slightly, letting his eyes adjust to the yellow light spilling out of the open bathroom door down the hallway. He wondered if someone had left it open at some point, but was in a slight sleep-daze as he headed towards it, and stepped into the doorway.

He was quite surprised, then, to see something that he hadn't really expected. Elizabeth stood in front of the vanity, brushing her dark curls that fell across her shoulders and ended in tight little spirals. Her dark eyes met his in surprise in the reflection. She turned pink instantly – not to have been discovered brushing her hair, but most likely due to her attire.

She had clearly borrowed something from Clare. It was probably one of her plainest nightgowns, a simply white cotton with no ruffles and lace, a sharp contrast to Clare's preferred orange leopard print boylegs and cami that she enjoyed traipsing around the house in whenever Darcy showed up, however, despite its plainness, it was still showing off much more than it covered. It left most of her pale, slender long legs and equally perfect arms for his inspection, not to mention most of her shoulders and some of her back, even the slightest glimpse at the top of her bust. Not to mention the fact that it was just transparent enough to give the slightest outline of her figure.

He gasped as he took in her delightful body with wide eyes.

"Sorry – I – well, Jay was kind of restless, she woke me up…And I – I like to brush my hair to get me to sleep," she murmured, after a loaded pause had descended on them. "Jay had only just gotten back to sleep. I didn't want to make any noise, and I needed brush my teeth anyway…" she added nervously.

"I – I –" he stammered, his voice slightly higher than usual. He cleared his throat rather obviously, well aware that he was only wearing a pair of loose hanging pyjama bottoms and a baggy, light v-neck tee shirt. His eyes fell from her eyes in the mirror to trace down her body, noting that with the way the light shone he could see the faintest outline of her -

"I'll be out in a minute, if you need the bathroom," she murmured quickly, interrupting his thoughts. He tore his eyes back to the upper half of her body.

"I – uh – t – take your time," he urged her nervously, biting the inside of his mouth. How was it that a girl not even sixteen yet could produce such a reaction from him? Sure, there wasn't a _huge_ age difference, only a few years, but wasn't he supposed to have more control?

"How kind of you," she murmured, slightly sarcastically, raising her hairbrush back to her curls.

"So… err… are you trying out for the musical at the end of this term?" he asked her nervously.

"Yep. Clare's bitchiness isn't going to stop me. I love _The Phantom of the Opera_ more than I hate her," she replied firmly.

"And… how are you enjoying England?" he questioned suddenly, words spilling out of his mouth without restraint. She raised an eyebrow slightly, evaluating his reflection in the mirror, as she ran the brush slowly through the unruly curls atop her head.

"I miss Australia," she admitted. He nodded slowly.

"Anything specifically?" he questioned, eager to continue talking to her. She looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Well, I'm not used to the climate at all," she began slowly. "And… my friends, I miss them a lot too, and being able to just walk down to the beach in a cossie and thongs and go for a swim," she continued. His eyes widened.

"I – you – _what_?" he exclaimed. She frowned.

"What?"

"You used to walk to the beach in a th –"

"A cossie. A swimming costume," she clarified. He could feel his cheeks flush.

"Did you really w – walk to the beach in a – a –"

"In a swimming costume and thongs," she repeated slowly. "I don't know if you people swim in this country, I _seriously_ doubt it, but in Australia we swum a lot. It was perfectly acceptable, if you lived on the coast, to walk down to the beach in a swimming costume and thongs," she continued, speaking as if he were a particularly slow child.

"Why would you wear a – a swimming costume _and_ a –" gulp "thong?" he questioned nervously, saying the last word as quietly as he could. She raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"I said thong_s_. They're shoes," she clarified for him. "You know, those rubber sandal things that you wear to the beach," she said slowly.

"Oh. They're called flip-flops," he informed her, realisation dawning upon him. "A thong is something _completely_ different," he added.

"Oh – sorry, I know what you mean. We call them G-strings," she replied simply. His eyes widened slightly. "Sorry about the confusion. I had the same incident when I asked to borrow Emilia's rubber yesterday," she added.

"Her _rubber_?"

"Apparently that what the British call condoms. Rubbers are those things you use to get rid of pencil marks," she said patiently, noting his aghast expression. Her dark eyes twinkled playfully, she was enjoying teasing him.

"Have you picked any British colloquialisms up?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh, 'blimey', 'arse-over-tit', 'bobby', 'cabbage', 'cack', 'dosh', 'gander', and 'knackered'," she recited thoughtfully. "I'm picking up all the good things," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Any Australian slang you're willing to share?" he questioned curiously. She laughed.

"Only bogans tend to use the kind of slang that everyone calls 'Australian'," she explained.

"Bogans?"

"I think you call them chavs."

"Ah. So it's not a term of endearment," he replied. Her eyes twinkled with laughter. "Why did you come here?" he questioned suddenly.

"I told you, I had to brush my teeth, and I like to run a comb through my hair before bed. It's soothing," she informed him, slightly agitated at his apparent stupidity.

"No, I meant to this country. To England," he clarified.

"I'm not sure," she said quietly, frowning slightly at something he couldn't see. "Family stuff, mainly. Nothing of much interest," she added.

"It just seems a little odd that you've suddenly been forced to live in a different society, one that you don't belong to. One that you can't adapt to," he commented. Her eyes flashed darkly.

"Right. Because I'm just a stupid little Australian, and you're _so_ much more superior, because you're English. I shouldn't even _try_ to 'adapt' to your country, because you're just _so_ different," she spat sarcastically.

"I didn't say that," he objected. "Not all Australians are stupid, and I'm not superior to you just because I'm English," he countered.

"Wow. Thanks for clearing that up, Darcy," she snapped. "It's good to know that you don't consider _all_ Australians stupid, even though you've only met two, and I'm pleased to know that you being English isn't the _only_ reason why you're superior to me," she said coolly, placing her brush on the side of the sink, and turning around to face him, her eyes flashing with anger. "You know what? Your country colonised mine – but that doesn't mean that you own us, that you're _better_ than us," she informed him coolly.

"I never implied that," he objected, frowning slightly. Why was she so upset?

"Don't you get it? _Yes_, I'm from another country, but that doesn't mean that I'm an alien! That I can't belong to a different society!" she snapped.

"You're the one always saying that England is so strange," he pointed out. She rolled her eyes.

"It's cold, people talk differently, and everyone seems to care about where their parents came from and who's had the most amount of money for the longest," she stated. "But that doesn't mean that I've had to change who I am to fit in!" she argued.

"You said that you _don't_ fit in here before," he commented. She gave a stale laugh.

"Has it ever occurred to you, Darcy, that I didn't just 'fit in' in Australia, either?" she questioned coolly. He blinked in surprise. She picked up her effects, before stepping away from the sink. "Good night," she snapped quickly, walking quickly past him. It didn't occur for him to move from her way – so she had to brush against him slightly to get past. He bit back a small sigh as he felt her delightful womanly assets press against him for just a second, before she was gone, back down the hall, slipping into the spare bedroom in silence.

He swallowed, staring at the place where she had stood.

He could swear to God that she hadn't been wearing a bra.

~ * ~

Jay was much better when Eli awoke to see the early morning sun shining through the curtains, lighting up the room in a peaceful, calm sort of manner. Jay was sleeping soundly, a tiny smile on her pink little lips, even the bump on her head had gone down slightly.

Eli gave a soft smile, and sighed, sitting up slightly in bed. She got up and crossed the room, pulling open the curtains, the room filling with the soft white light. She then turned to the fireplace (there seemed to be one in almost every room) and poked it a little, putting another log or two on. She liked fireplaces – they had two at their own place in Loungbourn Avenue.

She sighed softly as she crawled back into bed. She was growing to like the winter. She hated the cold, but as long as she was warm, it wasn't that bad. She liked watching the rain, the liked the almost-snow quality of the icy paths, she liked roaring fireplaces and the bright sun in the morning. She normally awoke quite late on Saturdays, but her eagerness to leave the house had caused her to rise earlier than she normally would.

She pulled the blankets up to her neck, snuggling into the warmth of the large bed. She glanced around the room thoughtfully, and chuckled. She wondered if Clare Bingley had worked out that the Bennett house was larger than the Bingley's. Perhaps not as ornately decorated, but definitely larger. Clare didn't seem like the type of person that would allow _anyone_'s home to be larger than hers.

Her quiet dislike of Clare Bingley was growing into a full-blown hatred quite quickly. After what she had done last night, she wasn't sure if she could ever really forgive her. And she had no such inclination to do so.

She got up properly not long after, having a quick shower before anyone else in the house seemed to wake up, changing into her jeans and one of the extra shirts that Helena had packed for Jay. She frowned slightly at her reflection in the bedroom mirror. She could swear that she had had some sort of growth spurt since coming to England. Jay's green Mermaid Sister shirt used to fit her perfectly when she borrowed it almost every day back in Sydney, but now it was stretched and tightened over her chest.

She stood on profile, examining her body thoughtfully. She had gotten just a little bit taller. And… fuller.

"Oh joy," she murmured. "Bra shopping with Francie. Fun," she drawled sarcastically.

"You _have_ gotten bigger," she heard Jay comment from the bed. Eli turned to meet her eyes with a soft smile.

"How are you, hun?" she questioned.

"Oh, I'm fine. Thanks for staying, you really made me feel much better," she replied with a smile. "And you've gotten bigger. You'll _definitely_ need new bras," she added. Eli sighed, and turned back on her side.

"It's all that greasy English cafeteria food. I'm just lucky that it didn't go anywhere else," she replied finally, pulling her hair back out of her face. "So, I called Helena, she's going to pick us up a little past noon, and take us home," she informed her. "You're going straight to bed, too," she added sternly. Jay laughed, and rolled over in bed.

"Yes, master and commander," she replied. "And what about you? Clanging away at your piano again?" she questioned.

"Emilia called me, actually, she asked if I wanted to go out with her and George this afternoon," she informed her, taking out Jay's change of clothes for the day. "And I said I'd go. Unless – did you want me to stay at home with you?" she questioned, turning back to her sister quickly.

"No hun, go, have fun," Jay urged her, sitting up properly. Eli smiled thankfully in response.

About half an hour later, breakfast was being served downstairs. Jay had just finished her shower, and was feeling much better, so decided to join everyone else downstairs. They were met with much the same setup as the night before, a large mahogany table, only in a different room, positioned to capture the morning sunlight. However, Mr Bingley had already gone to work without eating, and Mrs Bingley made it a rule not to rise before nine in the morning, leaving only the triplets, Darcy, Eli and Jay.

Eli blushed bright red when she descended the stairs with Jay by her side, to see Darcy sitting quietly at the table, looking over the morning's paper. He refused to meet her eyes, only nodding a slight greeting.

Conversation was tense that morning. Eli hadn't informed her sister of Clare's behaviour, wishing to keep it quiet. So whilst Char and Jay were enthusiastically talking to each other, everyone else at the table said very little.

"Did things seem a little awkward to you, Eli?" Jay questioned, after they had finished breakfast, and were moving towards the sitting room once more.

"Not at all," Eli replied, lying through her teeth. She didn't want to concern her sister.

She returned to her place by the window with an old paperback copy of Leroux's _The Phantom of the Opera_ she had in her backpack, sitting down in silence as Jay took her place beside Char, and they began an animated, if not slightly quiet discussion.

"Would you like to stretch your legs again, Eliza?" Clare questioned, continuing her practise of strolling around the room with her chest thrust forwards.

"No thank you," Eli replied slightly stiffly, her eyes not moving from the pages of her book.

"Is that your diary again?" Clare probed teasingly.

"No. It's a book."

"Oh. So I get it now – you're a great reader, and you don't care about doing anything else, right?" Clare announced.

"Nope. I have no idea what constitutes as a 'great reader', so I very much doubt I _am_ one, and I care about lots of other things."

"But you read a lot, right?"

"A great percentage of my time is spent reading, yes."

"So that would make you a great reader."

"Not if I were always reading the same sentence. That would make me a _bad_ reader."

"Well what do you read?"

"Most things. Books, cereal boxes, signs, instruction manuals, people, the lot."

"You read people?" Darcy questioned, raising his head from his laptop, meeting her eyes, frowning slightly.

"One of my favourite games. Whilst I can't admit to being a great reader, when it comes to people, I'm worth my salt," she replied, still not looking away from her book.

"And how do you know this?" he questioned.

"Because I've had lots of practise, and the majority of the time when I read people, I get the right idea," she answered simply.

"Isn't it a little presumptuous to assume that you can just _read_ a person? What if you're wrong?" he questioned frowningly.

"Then I'm wrong. And maybe it _is_ presumptuous. I won't deny that, but apparently pride is okay in your book, so I don't see your complaint," she almost snapped.

"People aren't just books. They have levels and layers," he objected.

"Yes, people are onions. I _get_ that, Darcy," she said with slightly frustration. "I don't go around claiming that I'm some sort of psychiatrist! Some people are good at reading emotions and some aren't! I'm not claiming to be gifted or anything!" she practically snapped, before closing her mouth rather quickly. She frowned at her own slip of the tongue. Jay glanced at her in concern.

Eli hated that word. It had done nothing but bring her misery.

"What are you doing, Darcy?" Clare questioned, breaking the tension in the room.

"Emailing Georgie," he answered, tearing his eyes away from Eli, and back to his laptop.

"Oh! Tell her I said hi. She's such a dear," she practically squealed. Darcy said nothing in response. "You would just _love_ Georgie, Eliza. She's _so_ talented at _everything_ she does. _And_ she's so clever, and so pretty! She's such a heart-stopper," she droned on, glancing over to Darcy to see if he noticed her praises. He did not. "Don't you think Georgie is just great, Char?" Clare questioned, turning to her brother.

"She's great, I love Georgie," he replied cheerfully. "Most girls have something great about them," he added with distraction, turning eagerly back to Jay.

"But not _all_ girls!" exclaimed Clare. "But Georgie is perfect. The ideal girl," she stated. Char sighed.

"Clare, shutup. There is no 'ideal girl'," he stated firmly.

"Of course there is. She has to be pretty, smart, funny, well-mannered, graceful, she needs to be able to play an instrument or know some sort of art, and… she needs to have a certain presence about her," she recited factually.

"A 'presence'?" Eli questioned doubtfully.

"A genuineness. She needs to be real, honest and frank," Clare stated.

"And she needs to be a great reader," Darcy threw in. Eli scowled, and shut her book with haste.

"And do _you_ know anyone like that?" she questioned him with irritation. He raised his eyes, and met hers.

"Yes."

"Really? Someone who is smart and pretty and funny _and_ genuine? Don't you think you're expecting a bit _much_?" she questioned angrily.

"I didn't say that _all_ women have to be like that," he objected. "But yes, I do happen to know a few girls who fit that bill," he replied, his gaze flickering away from hers to the floor.

"Oh really? Did she come with the dream house or the camper-van?" she snapped pointedly.

"How can you have such little faith in your own gender?" he questioned incredulously.

"I have even less faith in the opposite gender," she replied coolly. "And I really doubt you'd find someone so perfect. If you meet her, don't tell me, I'd rather not worship a false idol," she snapped.

"Are you a Christian?" Clare questioned, frowning with distaste, like it were something disgusting. Eli rolled her eyes.

"I have an open mind. I have personal spiritual beliefs. And at the moment, they don't concern _you_," she snapped. "I think it's stupid to have expectations of women like that. That's what led to centuries of oppression," she added curtly to Darcy.

"_You're_ not being oppressed, it's a different society now," he objected. "Women have expectations of men – this is just some sort of bitter feminist thing!" he said, growing more animated with the argument. "Western civilisation has been changed so women are on equal standings to men. I don't see why you're getting so uptight about this," he said.

"Oh, well I suppose it's just because I've got a vagina," she snapped sarcastically. "And western civilisation hasn't _changed_, women were given a key to the boys toilet, but they didn't throw out the urinals," she added coolly. "They let women in. Nothing was altered, not in western civilisation, and _certainly_ not in eastern!" she continued.

"The 'oppression' you seem to be fixated with that occurs in Eastern culture is down to culture, religion and tradition," he argued.

"In certain _Western _cultures on this supposedly modern planet men are allowed to force their wives to have sex with them! Or deny them food if they don't sleep with them!" she objected. "And are you seriously implying that oppression of women was never a part of western culture, religion and tradition?" she questioned. "Almost all western religion has oppression of women! Look at most major religions! Look at Christianity! There's oppression of women left right and centre in there!" she added.

"I've been taught to never bring religion into a debate," he informed her coolly.

"Well that doesn't matter! The point is that women were oppressed for _centuries_ by the stupid standards of 'ideal girls' that you and Clare are going on about! The Napoleonic code of France – _France_, a society that introduced erotica, impressionism and just about every _other_ groundbreaking thing that the British labelled as vile to western civilisation – stated that a woman belonged to her _husband_, as in an actual _possession_ that could be traded in or insured, that males had _absolute_ control over their wives, and that women were to be put on the same intellectual level as _babies_ and the mentally ill!" she argued.

"I never said that I judged women by those sorts of standards," Darcy said calmly.

"No, you just added a few on when Clare had run out of them," she snapped.

"You don't want to listen to me? Fine. I'm just saying that if women are permitted to have expectations and standards for men, we should be able to have them for women," he stated. "It doesn't mean that _I_ do, but I doubt you'd believe that," he snapped finally, turning back to his laptop.

"I've never seen anyone argue with Darcy like that," Char commented with a chuckle. "Good job, Eli," he congratulated her.

"Meh. I like debating," she replied with a small grin, before turning back to her book, the tiny smile melting from her face.

She didn't notice the same smile lingering on Darcy's lips.

**A/N: A few people were a little confused with Darcy's POV last chapter. Well, Darcy is an intelligent teenager, and has a capacity, as most intelligent teenagers, to romanticise **_**everything**_**. And he thinks too good of himself to use the word 'boob', even in his mind, because he's just too cool. Cough. Anyway, I really love stories that actually **_**have**_** a jerky Darcy, and then you can watch his transitioning into being un-jerky. I never really focused on it much, just made him a decent enough guy, and my version of Elizabeth only had to realise that and mature. Well, I'm sick of that. Darcy is a prick for the majority of this story, and for a good part in the sequel. But at least in **_**this**_** story, you get too see him change for the better, and I think that's important. Yeah, so his over-the-top way of perving on Eli was intentional, but I toned it down in this chapter :D Please review, my pretties!**


	8. Life on Mars

"_And I'll take myself from the bottom shelf,  
And I'm on the street again  
But it's the newer town, and the rain come down  
In a place I've never been_,"

-Damien Rice, 'Bottom Shelf_  
_

"Your father says he is very saddened that you have missed a full day of study," Helena informed Eli gravely, sitting on the edge of Eli's opium bed, darning a slight tear in one of her coats.

"Dorr isn't the boss of me," she replied, sifting through her wardrobe. "Helena, you don't need to fix that, I'll do it when I get home," she sighed.

"Oh no Miss Elisabet, it's what I'm paid for," Helena reminded her sternly. "Remember to wear something warm today. It's very cold outside," she added.

"I'll be fine, Helena," Eli replied, pulling out a change of clothes, and stepping behind the painted screens she had in the corner. She changed hastily to a pair of black wool tights, a burgundy waist high skirt, a white shirt with just another mindless slogan across the bust, and a thick, chunky grey wool cardigan with black converse sneakers. She wrapped a grey scarf around her neck, put a beanie atop her curls, and stepped back out from the screens.

"And when will you be getting back, Miss Elisabet?" she questioned curiously.

"Uh… I'm not sure. I probably won't be back in time for dinner, though," she replied, tossing a few things into her purse, before stepping over to the vanity.

"Did you enjoy the Bingley's home?" Helena asked inquisitively.

"Not really," Eli admitted, dabbing a bit of powder onto her complexion. "Clare Bingley is horrible. And her mother is almost as bad, but I just couldn't bear popping Jay's little bubble of perfection," she explained. "Darcy was his usual standoffish self, but he ignored me most of the time, so it wasn't so bad," she continued with a shrug, pulling out some eyeliner. She didn't really wear much makeup, but Helena had shown her how to transform her entire appearance with only the tiniest amounts.

"I'm sure he is a nice boy, Miss Elisabet," Helena tried to convince her. "Just give him a chance. Everyone is nice underneath," she added.

"I see Jay's corrupted you," Eli chuckled, her dark eyes twinkling, before she gave a quiet sigh. "I just don't know about him. He makes me feel… intimidated. No one else can do that to me, not even Dorr. I just do was Dorr says because he has the power to punish me, and I don't want to disappoint him, but with Darcy it's just… strange," she explained quietly, finishing her makeup.

"Give him a chance, Miss Elisabet," Helena urged her. Eli smiled softly, before crossing the room, and giving Helena a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks, Helena. I probably won't give him one, but you've given me something to think about," she sighed.

"Be safe," Helena urged her with a smile, patting her soft curls comfortingly. Eli picked up her bag, and slipped from the bedroom downstairs.

She mused on what it would be like to have Helena as her mother. Probably much more preferable to _Francie_, she thought, descending into the front room, just as George's gorgeous red Audi rolled up the driveway.

"Francie! Dorr! I'm going out!" she cried loudly, peering through rooms to try and find her parents. She heard the doorbell ring, and headed back through the house to answer it.

"Why hello there!" she heard Francie say delightedly, obviously beating her daughter to the front door. She opened it with a wide red smile at the sight of George standing on the front steps, looking just as handsome as ever in comfortable blue jeans and his usual jumper and coat combination. Emilia stood behind him, looking just as beautiful as she always did in a pretty dark blue dress with wool tights and a thick cardigan, a wool beanie included. Eli grinned. She had been corrupted by Emilia's fashion tastes, and she had no problem admitting to it.

"Good afternoon," George greeted pleasantly. "Ah – Eli, there you are," he said, upon seeing her standing in the front hallway. "Ready to go?" he questioned.

"Would you like to come in for a moment for some tea or coffee? It's pretty cold out there," Francie pointed out.

"Uhh…" George replied, trying to read Eli's sign language behind her mother's back. "Sure," he answered finally, after giving up.

"How difficult was it to tell that I was saying _no_?" Eli questioned him, as he stepped into the house. He shrugged.

"I failed at that part of my degree," he answered simply. She rolled her eyes.

"Your funeral, you two," she said simply, following her mother into the kitchen.

"Nice house, Eli," Emilia commented, looking around with interest.

"Oh, you like it?" Francie questioned, obviously listening intently. "We haven't even finished decorating or unpacking yet!" she said, with a false laugh.

"A lobotomy is arranged for next week," Eli hissed quietly. George sniggered, but Emilia held it back, her eyes only giving away her amusement.

It was a full twenty minutes before Eli could tear Francie away from George and Emilia. She wouldn't stop going _on_ and _on_, like a never ending record player. By the time they got into George's car, Eli was apologising profusely.

"She really wasn't so bad, Eli," Emilia objected, after the hundredth 'I'm _so_ sorry'.

"Ha! Well that was only a small dosage," she replied. "Because Frances Bennett is Lucifer in a skirt. You're lucky you only got it for twenty minutes – I've had it for almost sixteen years," she added miserably.

"Your mother was just a little enthusiastic, Eli," George tried to convince her. She snorted sarcastically. "You're just being paranoid. She was a nice enough woman, with a lovely home and a nice family. She was proud of it," he went on.

"Oh, how naïve you sound," Eli murmured mockingly from the back seat.

"He's right, Eli," Emilia pointed out. "I mean, your Mum is alright. Granted, we don't know her as well as you do, but she seemed okay to us, there's nothing to apologise for," she said calmly. Eli sighed miserably.

"I wish I had normal, boring parents," she commented. "Hey, what are your guys parents like? Do you want to swap?" she asked curiously, sitting up.

"My mother is on her fifth husband, and lives in California, Eli," George informed her, with a small, laughing smile. "I believe the Australian term for her is a 'cougar'," he said, as Eli gave a chuckle. He didn't seem disconcerted. "And my father hasn't been around since I was about sixteen. He gave me a trust fund, sends an allowance, bought me a car, a house, and a business, but I haven't seen him in years. You're lucky," he added, but he still didn't seem disconcerted by his situation at all. "I'd take a mother that cares enough to embarrass her kid over what I've got any day," he informed her.

"Eli, you've got two parents that love you. It's a blessing, not a curse," Emilia assured her. The laughter died from George's face, and he turned serious, glancing over to his companion with concern. She rolled her eyes at his worry. "My parents were in a car accident three months ago. My mum died and my dad lost most movement in his legs. George seems to think that I'm sitting on the razor's edge or something," she explained simply.

"Oh God – Em! I had no idea!" Eli exclaimed, sitting up properly, and wrapping her arms around her friend from behind, the car seat creating a slight barrier. Emilia laughed.

"It's okay, really. I'm fine about it," she said honestly. "Dad is fine, he's now running his business from home, and George got me through… the rest. I lived with him for a little while, and he really helped my Dad get back on his feet, as it were, he was just great throughout the whole thing," she explained. She didn't really sound all that bothered by the occurrence at all.

"Well, you're lucky to have George," Eli commented, as the man himself grinned smugly. "And I'm sorry I was all whiney and wouldn't stop complaining, I can be a bitch sometimes," she added, feeling incredibly ashamed for complaining about her mother when Emilia had recently lost hers.

"Hey, it's fine. I'm a bitch most of the time," Emilia replied with a grin. Eli returned to her original position in the backseat with a small laugh.

"She really isn't, she just loves to put herself down," George informed her. "I'm telling you, she's a nut-job," he added firmly.

"Takes one to know one, George," Eli pointed out. He rolled his eyes, and hid back a laugh.

"I won't comment on the lameness of that retort," he promised her politely. She laughed in thanks.

They spent the rest of the afternoon quite happily, Emilia and George pointing out the landmarks of the area for Eli, before they stopped at a nice little café for hot chocolate. She was growing more and more comfortable around Emilia and George, but it still had to be said that she didn't really know all that much about their relationship.

"So how did you two become friends?" she questioned curiously, after taking a sip from her hot chocolate.

"Our parents knew each other for years before either of us came along," George began. "Not to mention the fact that my ex-step-brother, who I'm still pretty close with, married her sister, Bella," he continued.

"Both our families used to live in the middle of London, about five minutes away. He started to baby sit me when I was three years old, and then he never stopped hogging the TV and drinking all the juice in the fridge from then on," Emilia continued. George laughed, and ruffled his companion's hair.

"She loves me. She just can't admit it," he joked. Emilia rolled her eyes.

"Like a hole in the head," she replied.

"A hole filled with love."

"No, a hole filled with dust and sharp, painful objects."

"And love."

"There is no love!"

"What's that? Oh! I think it's God, smiting you for such horrid lies!"

"Isn't that blasphemous?"

"Probably. But we could always do this old-testament style."

"That really _is_ blasphemous," Eli commented, trying to stifle her giggles.

"George isn't Christian. He's a Pastafarian," Emilia whispered to her.

"Lies! I devote my life to the wonder of the Invisible Pink Unicorn!" he objected.

"Quiet now. You're scaring Eli," she ordered George.

It couldn't be further from the truth. Eli was barely able to control her laughter as the two once more bickered like an old married couple. It was the cutest thing she had ever seen.

"So _how_ long have you known each other then? How long has this argument been going on?" she asked curiously.

"Most of her life," George sniggered. "I mean, I met her a few times when she was a baby, but I was a teenage boy. Well, barely. Almost. But still in that age where babies held no interest for me," he explained.

"It wasn't until I was past the whole constantly screaming thing that he started to like me," Emilia added with a cheeky grin.

"You imply that you're past that stage?" he questioned inquisitively. Emilia rolled her eyes as Eli stifled sniggers.

"Quiet, you. Let's talk to Eli now," Emilia replied, turning back to her friend. "So. You've been in England for over a month now – what do you think?" she questioned, stirring a third teaspoon of sugar into her mug as George looked on with disgust.

"Well, it's still really cold most of the time, and it rains a lot," she stated slowly, glancing out at the damp streets outside. "But I like the rain. We didn't get it very much in Australia; we were going through a pretty serious drought. We all had water restrictions," she explained.

"What do you mean, 'water restrictions'?" Emilia questioned, frowning slightly at the thought.

"Well, you were only _supposed_ to have two minute showers, but most people had five or ten," she began. "And you weren't allowed to wash your car, or use your sprinklers, or water your garden on certain days of the week, and even then, it was only for a little while," she continued.

"My God. What heathen place did you _come _from?" Emilia exclaimed.

"It was to conserve water for all the farming areas, Emi," George informed her patiently.

"I just can't imagine being forced to restrict how much water you use like that," Emilia murmured thoughtfully. "Well, at least you don't have to do that now," she added cheerfully.

"Yeah, but I had to buy an umbrella when I came to England! It hardly ever _stops_ raining here," Eli pointed out. "I _love_ the rain, but it gets annoying when I want to go outside for a walk, and I can't," she explained.

"You didn't have an umbrella in Australia?"

"I didn't need one," she replied, with a shrug. Emilia shook her head in wonder.

"What currency did you use there?" she questioned curiously.

"Australian dollars. It used to be pounds, but they're out of circulation by now," she answered.

"And what side of the road did you drive on?"

"The left, just like the British."

"How many years of school were there?"

"At least one of preschool, most people do two, then primary, which is kindergarten to year six, then high school, which is seven to twelve," she replied.

"What's the legal drinking age?"

"Eighteen."

"Smoking?"

"Eighteen."

"Nightclubs?"

"Eighteen."

"Drivers licence?"

"Sixteen."

"Sex?"

"Sixteen."

"I'm beginning to think that you've grown quite corrupted, Emilia," George commented with a frown. She snorted in laughter.

"I always was," she replied, waving him off. "How old do you have to be to get a job?"

"Fourteen and nine months, but with parental permission I guess you could start at any age," she shrugged.

"How old do you have to be to leave school?"

"Fourteen, I think. Or possibly fifteen – I'm not sure," she answered thoughtfully.

"So what does Australia look like?" she asked, growing fascinated. Eli laughed.

"Uh, depends where you go. Most people live on the coasts, but inland Australia is still beautiful, the ground is red and the sky is the clearest shade of blue you could ever imagine, and at sunset, it's like the whole country is burning," she sighed dreamily. "Queensland is amazing too. That's where the Great Barrier Reef is – I went when I was little, and some parts of it were just… stunning," she said almost breathlessly. "All the colours – it was unbelievable! But when I went back early last year, it was like all the colour had gone. The water gets too hot, and it kills all the coral, it ends up all bleached out and horrible. People who don't believe in global warming should visit the Great Barrier Reef," she said.

"But I thought it was some sort of world wonder," Emilia threw in.

"It still is," Eli replied, nodding her head. "Some parts of it are still colourful and amazing, and you can go snorkelling with all of the fish, and the beaches are great, but it's not the same," she continued. "Tasmania has a reputation as being inbred-central on the mainland, but it's really beautiful too. It's _so_ ridiculously green – they have some of the nicest rainforests you could imagine," she added, as Emilia eagerly lapped up the information. "Melbourne is known as the fashion central – it's okay, but I love Sydney," she continued.

"I've seen pictures, what's it like?" she questioned curiously.

"Unbelievable. I'll take you one day; we'll go to The Rocks first. Circular Quey is right on the harbour, and you can sit in a café eating lunch whilst watching the boats come in, and there are always buskers there, almost every time I go there's this amazing didgeridoo player, the tourists lap it up," she recited eagerly. "And then we can go to the Museum of Contemporary Art – that's always really great, they have some _amazing_ artists in there," she continued. "And then there's Hyde Park, and St Marys church – you won't _believe_ how gorgeous it is, really, it's just… woah," she said almost breathlessly. "And the park is just across the road from Museum of New South Wales, which is just _gorgeous_, and they have the best pumpkin soup and vegetable frittas in the gallery restaurant, by the way, and then there's this giant painting of there purple boats that take up a whole wall, and the hills hoist with all the bats on it," she continued excitedly.

"I see you know Sydney quite well," George laughed.

"I would take the train in every weekend and stay with my Aunt and Uncle – or at least every weekend that Dorr would let me," she explained. "Oh! And all of this is _nothing_ compared to how Sydney looks when it's night time, and you're standing in Circular Quey, looking at the lights on the water – the best position is from the Opera House windows, because you can look over to the Harbour Bridge with all the cars on it and all those gorgeous old buildings, it just takes your breath away," she sighed.

"Do you miss it?" Emilia asked curiously. Eli didn't reply for a moment.

"More than I thought I could," she replied, after a moment's thought, casting her eyes downward to her mug. "I still don't feel that it's fair that I had to leave. But I'll go back one day," she added cheerfully, shattering the sudden morbid feeling that descended on the occupants of the table.

They spent a very pleasant afternoon together in town. Mostly they just wandered around shops and parks, talking, getting to know each other better, Eli forgetting how miserable leaving her home had made her over the past six weeks. She still wished to return to Australia, there was no doubt about that, but it was easier to deal being around George and Emilia. She felt like things were perhaps getting better.

"Make yourself at home, Eli," George instructed her, when they stepped into his penthouse apartment later that day to have dinner before he would drop them both off at their respective homes.

"Your flat is _really_ fancy," Eli commented, stepping through the hallway carefully, trying not to disturb anything. It was decorated very handsomely, in a subtle, modern masculine elegance. When she stepped through the hallway, it was pretty much open space, covered with hardwood floors. A huge window took up most of the walls, giving an amazing view over one of the fashionable districts in London, which was much closer than she had actually suspected. There were a few comfortable looking leather couches around a large fireplace, the walls lined with books and photos. In the corner, by the window, was a space set out with a big black grand piano, and a few guitars leaning against various surfaces. George had mentioned that he played guitar well enough, but the piano quite poorly. He bought it so he could tune his guitars, and hopefully entice Emilia to practise more often, however, that never happened.

"Are you kidding? He refuses to let me decorate it for him. I mean, this is nice and everything, but it needs a woman's touch," Emilia replied, casually tossing her coat down on one of the couches, as if it were a second home to her.

"You're not a woman yet, Emi," George called from the kitchen, a glorious combination of granite and stainless steel.

"I've got all the right parts, George," she replied, a smirk gracing her beautiful face as she turned her head, and poked her tongue out at him from across the room.

"Trust me. We're all aware," he replied, rolling his eyes, and starting to flick through take out menus on the bench. "Hey Eli, what did you feel like eating?" he questioned, but she only shrugged.

"I'm not picky," she answered, stepping towards the walls to look at the photos. "Hey Em, is this you?" she questioned, pointing to a colourful picture of a white headed toddler with big, pale eyes, wearing a cute pink frock and hat. She was being held by a boy in his mid teens, with a mop of dark hair and twinkling dark celadon and gold eyes, his young, handsome face lit up with a warm grin. They were standing in front of the Eiffel tower in Paris, looking just like typical tourists.

"My Mum was French, so I spent a lot of time in Paris. George came to visit us when I was little," she replied, turning her head round to see what her friend was inspecting. "How old were you then, George?" she questioned, calling out to the kitchen.

"Uh… you were three then, so… about fourteen, fifteen," he replied, pausing his perusing of the takeout menus for a moment. Emilia removed herself from the couch, and walked up to the picture with curiosity, untying her hair from its black elastic, curls slowly slipping across her shoulders. Eli glanced back to George.

If she had been in any wonder or doubt as to the relationship between George and Emilia, his expression only threw things up even more. He let the menus hang loosely in his hands, his eyes practically glued to Emilia in an expression of awe.

He looked at her as if he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Eli glanced momentarily back at Emilia, she was completely ignorant of his staring, simply continuing to untie her hair, and look at the picture. She turned back to George. The menus had now completely slid from his hands, and he had tilted his head in order to see the object of his attentions better. His mouth fell slightly, drinking her in with his eyes as if he was dying of thirst, and she was the last glass of water on earth.

And then the spell was broken as Emilia turned away from the photo once more. A brief look of pain crossed George's face before he pulled on a mask of indifferent friendship once more.

"Hey George, did I leave my USB here the other day? I looked for it everywhere at home, but I can't seem to find it," she questioned suddenly, glancing back to her companion, who had picked up the menus once more.

"Check my office, I know you were using my desktop for your assignment a few nights before, you may have left it there after you printed it off," he replied. Emilia slid her elastic onto her wrist, and gave a brief nod of thanks, before disappearing down one of the hallways.

"Hey, George?" Eli began, stepping over to him as he pulled a bottle of juice from the fridge.

"Yeah?"

"Exactly how long have you been in love with Emilia?" she questioned curiously, taking a seat at one of the bar stools at the bench, leaning forwards, and resting her chin on her palms.

George almost dropped the bottle, but tightened his grip on it just before it fell. He swore, and quietly placed the bottle on the bench.

"Eli," he murmured, his voice stern, but not angered or disapproving. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm not going to tell her. But it was pretty obvious when you looked at her," she responded. "I can only say kudos to you for keeping it a secret for so long. Does anyone else know? Emilia doesn't, of course, I could tell, because you seem so good at hiding it," she continued. George took a deep, calming breath, and placed his palms on the side of the kitchen bench, staring at her shoes. "Doesn't it hurt?" she questioned softly, when he didn't speak.

"Please, Eli. No," he murmured after a fair pause, still not looking up to meet her eyes. He sounded slightly weak. He looked like he was about to say something else, but the silence was broken by a different voice.

"I found it! I left it in your computer, I'm such a scatter-brain," Emilia called, stepping back into the den.

"No objections there," George teased, instantly returning to his usual, cheerful self. He sent Eli a look that said quite clearly, 'say _nothing_', before finally selecting a menu, and picking up the phone.

They ate Chinese food on the floor by the roaring fire that night, laughing and chatting away, Eli slightly quieter than usual as she carefully watched George. She caught him staring at Emilia a number of times, with such an expression of love and longing that she wondered how Emilia didn't just burst into flames with the intensity of his gaze. They seemed just as intense as the looks that –

She pushed all thoughts of Darcy from her head. She had no feelings for Darcy, she reminded herself, and he had none for her. He looked at her only to find fault, to criticise. Not like George, who looked at Emilia with complete and total adoration.

She wanted to ask him about it. But with the expression of pain that passed his face occasionally, she knew that she shouldn't press it. There was something between them that she didn't understand, and it wasn't her place to find out what it was. Emilia was too good a friend to her to risk it by pressuring her about her relationship with George.

"Eli? _Yoo-hoo_!" Emilia called, waving her hand before Eli's eyes. She snapped out of her musings quickly, blinking slightly with confusion. George snorted from his position opposite her. "Good! You're alive! Now you can play us a song!" she requested with delight. Eli snorted, and rolled her eyes.

"You first, Em," she challenged.

"Uh… you do _not_ want that," she replied, a small frown threatening her full pink lips. George nudged her shoulder in response, a small smile settling on his lips. He looked at Emilia with open affection, but something akin to friendship.

"Please?" he requested simply. She gave him an annoyed glance, rolling her big pale blue eyes.

"Oh fine, but it has to be a duet with Eli. I'm not doing anything by myself," she declared sternly. He grinned, and winked at Eli, pleased that they had convinced her. They headed over to the piano, George turning himself to watch comfortably.

Eli sat down at the piano as they agreed on the song, and started to play. She and Emilia joined together for the singing.

Eli was quite impressed. Emilia _did_ have a lovely voice; it reminded her of Lisa Hannigan, one of her favourite female performers. In fact, Eli was quite certain that if her friend received proper tutelage and practised quite often, she could be _very_ good. George obviously thought so, if his earlier comments were anything to go by.

"Wow. Eli, you _said_ that you sung, but that was amazing!" Emilia commented, as they finished the last bars of '_Fidelity_' by Regina Spektor.

"I have to agree with you there – that was just… see, Emi, Eli is a professional about her singing. _You_ need the determination that she must have had to practise so much," George replied, sending a quiet glare to his charge. "That was just brilliant, Eli. You're amazingly talented. Perhaps you could teach Emilia a few things, she could _definitely_ learn from you," he continued.

"Ignore him, Eli," Emilia instructed her, stepping away from the piano. "Don't waste your time trying to teach me anything, it goes in one ear and out the other," she advised, running her delicate hand along the smooth top of the piano. Eli wondered if she knew how beautiful she looked, crossing the room with such effortless loveliness and grace. Were she the envious type, she would have been turning green. "He seems to have this obsession with making me a better human being, more educated, accomplished, refined," she explained.

"And she's just as obsessed with pushing me away," George replied with a tiny, almost bitter laugh.

"I told you. He expects me to be Prime Minister, or to cure cancer. He refuses to let me get a job unless it's working in a research lab," she laughed, taking a seat beside her friend. Eli watched on curiously.

"It wasn't a _job_, Emi, and you know that it was a bad idea. You don't need the money, and you should be concentrating on your studies – modelling is a waste of your time," he replied sternly.

"He can't talk. He used to model for Ralph Lauren about five years ago. The pictures are on google," she said, waving her companion's comments away. "So tell me where you learnt to play like that! It was amazing," she gushed, turning back to Eli.

She wondered what it would be like, to live your whole life being rich, beautiful, talented, and without a care in the world. Emilia seemed to have everything, yet she thought so little of it all that Eli was convinced she could give it all away and not think twice about it.

If Eli envied one thing about Emilia, it wasn't her endless beauty, her effortless talent or extensive intelligence, it was her confidence. She was completely comfortable with every situation thrown at her. Whereas Eli ignored her insecurities just to spite those around her.

"I _should_ feel jealous," Eli said aloud, as George's car sped through the night. She was glancing over her shoulder, where a drowsy Emilia sat, ipod headphones in her ears, music blaring loud enough for her to clearly discern the lyrics and chord changes of the piece.

"I know. She makes everyone feel like that," he replied, taking his eyes off the road for a moment, glancing in his rear view mirror.

"I… I didn't know that there were people in the world like her. So – perfect," she muttered.

"She's not perfect. Not by far. She's spoilt, over-confident and self-indulgent. But she's kind, she's not vain, and she's genuinely very sweet," he explained, turning onto Eli's street. "But don't tell her I said that. The last thing she needs is an ego," he chuckled quietly.

Eli smiled as she took another glance over her shoulder to her friend.

No, she wasn't jealous.

~ * ~

Eli sighed tiredly as she ran a hand through her locks, peering down at her Iconography homework. She was exhausted, but she had a pile of homework to complete before her next class.

"Hi Eli!" an excited, nasally voice came from the entrance to the student lounge. She glanced upwards, and her heart sunk. It was Colin Collins.

Colin Collins was a prefect in his final year at Rosings. He was possibly the most annoying person to grace the face of the earth, and for the past week he had been practically stalking her, following her around from class to class, much to the amusement of her friends. Charlotte and Emilia had explained that he was a bit of a loop, and tended to cling to pretty girls and people of power like a slug to a leaf of lettuce.

He was much taller than her and fairly heavy, but somehow lanky, with long limbs that seemed to just hang from his miserable body. His skin was pallid and covered with acne, his eyebrows like two fat caterpillars sitting above his decidedly boring brown eyes, joined together above his large, crooked nose, before they almost disappeared behind his straight-cut fringe, greasy hair trimmed in a way that looked as if someone had simply put a bowl on top of his head and snipped away. He had a large grin plastered on his hideous face, and smelt strongly of far too much cheap deodorant, that didn't cover the faint odour of liquefying body fat and cheese. For the past week he had been following her _everywhere_, always trying to start a conversation about one boring topic or another. She thought she had given him the slip, but apparently he had an Eli-radar.

"Hi, Colin," she murmured miserably, turning back to her books.

"What are you doing?" he questioned excitedly.

"I'm writing an essay about the significance of mandalas in classical landscape art," she replied, hoping that it sounded boring.

"That sounds so fascinating!" he replied eagerly. Eli hid back the urge to wince. She was wondering how she could tell Colin to bugger off when he sat down next to her, a little too close for comfort. "Guess what! Headmistress du Bourg asked me to talk to you today at the Prefect meeting!" he announced, speaking with a booming voice, causing students to turn their heads and peer at the curious display. Eli shifted away nervously.

"Wonderful," she said sarcastically, turning back to her book.

"She's a _very_ considerate woman, Headmistress du Bourg, _so_ kind!" he cried loudly. "And she told _me_, her most trusted Prefect, to discuss with you the contributions you're going to make to the school during your time here! She knew that we were such good friends, and decided that I was the most suitable person for the job!" he continued. "I think it's splendid that she cares for the little people like you, it shows you what a truly kind and wonderful woman Headmistress du Bourg is," he raved.

"I'm sure she's delightful," she murmured, keeping her eyes trained on the paper before her. She wasn't exactly Headmistress du Bourg's biggest fan. Not since Francie had started chumming up with her, sharing ideas about God knows what. Eli had a suspicion that soon they were going to get matching highlights and manicures.

"Listen Colin, I need to concentrate – this essay is due tomorrow," she snapped, growing irritated with his presence.

"What lovely perfume you're wearing today, Elizabeth! Whatever is it called?" he inquired curiously, moving closer to her and sniffing rather obviously.

"Soap."

"Then it must just be your natural pheromones!" he continued delightedly. "Did you know that the male wolf can tell when a female is in heat –"

"I don't think you need to continue that sentence, Colin," Eli snapped, pulling forth a highlighter and practically tearing her paper apart with the force of her hand.

"You look quite stressed, Eli," he informed her suddenly, noticing her frustration.

"No shit, Sherlock," she muttered under her breath. "Listen, Colin, I need to do my essay. You're really freaking me out," she stated.

"Whatever do you mean, Elizabeth? We're just chatting," he tried to reason. Eli gave a frustrated growl, and was about to let all of her anger loose on Colin, before a voice stopped her.

"Eli! _There_ you are, you haven't started the assignment without me, have you?" a delightful accent questioned. Eli glanced up at the unfamiliar voice. She vaguely recognised the guy who was approaching her with a grin; his bag tossed over his shoulder in a look of casual ease, before he threw it down beside her, and took a seat. He was the really cute boy she had noticed in the year above hers, but she didn't know his name. "Colin, right? Hey, thanks for keeping Eli company, but I think I can take it," he continued, turning to the annoyance with a large grin plastered over his handsome face.

"I – I –" Colin stammered, not sure how to continue. He glanced desperately over to Eli, who gave him no welcoming expressions. "I guess I had better go then. Elizabeth, I'll talk to you later," he muttered, standing up, and _finally_ leaving.

"You're my new hero. Seriously, let me build a shrine around you," Eli requested suddenly, watching Colin leave the lounge. She turned back to the boy with a grateful smile, a lock of dark hair spilling from her loose tie, dancing over her forehead and softly caressing her cheek.

"Anything for that smile," he chuckled warmly in response. She felt her cheeks blush pink, and cast her eyes down back to her books. "I didn't really pick you as being coy," he laughed, trying to coax her to meet his eyes once more. She looked up with a tiny, shy smile. "Ohhh… I see, let me guess. Low self-esteem, right? Is it Mummy, or Daddy?" he questioned, with an understanding smile.

"Uhhh… myself," she laughed, slightly awkwardly, in response. "I'm self-absorbed. Comes with the age," she informed him, picking up her pen once more, fighting another blush. "So… thanks for rescuing me. How did you know my name?" she questioned curiously.

"You're a bit of a novelty around here," he answered, with a small shrug, his blue eyes twinkling with laughter. "Most of the girls hate you. You're pretty, talented and smart, not to mention 'exotic'," he continued, Eli rolling her eyes in disagreement. "Your sister, Jay, though, she's much more submissive and easy to control. That's why they love her," he added.

"Jay isn't submissive. She just likes making people happy," she answered, pulling her textbook forwards. "I don't care about other people's opinions. That's why I'm not liked," she added.

"Well, the _girls_ don't like you, I never said anything about the boys," he replied, leaning against one of the footstool comfortably, brushing a strand of sandy blonde hair behind his ears.

"I'm loud and obnoxious, that's a bit of a turn off," she laughed, flicking through the index of her textbook.

"Obviously you haven't been talking to the right people then," he teased. She raised her eyebrows.

"Are you implying that I'm _not_ considered a brat by the male population of this school?" she questioned, in complete surprise. He smirked slightly.

"Definitely not. And for your own personal safety, I'd stay away from the lacrosse team," he advised. "Your name comes up a few times in discussion in the change rooms," he explained. Her eyes widened.

"My God. That's unbelievable," she whispered in surprise.

"What? That boys find you attractive?"

"No, that there's enough people that actually _like_ lacrosse to start a team," she exclaimed. The boy laughed heartily.

"You're a real charmer, you know," he informed her, his blue eyes sparkling. She raised an eyebrow.

"In Australia we have a different term for 'annoying'," she chuckled.

"I can assure you on that – 'annoying' is one of the _last_ words I'd use to describe you," he said smilingly. "Give me a shout anytime you need saving," he requested, rising to his feet, picking up his bag, and with a wink, leaving the lounge.

Eli smiled softly down at her essay.

Did he _really_ like her smile?

She was smiling all through her classes, and by the time lunch had come, she was almost glowing.

"You look very… pleased," Charlotte said warily, as Eli joined her and Emilia on their favourite couch in the lounge.

"A cute guy likes my smile," she informed her, beaming.

"Really? Who is it?" Emilia questioned with excitement.

"I have no idea. But he's _really_ hot," she sighed, before filling them in on all that had happened.

"Ew. Colin tried to give you a speech about wolves and pheromones?" Emilia exclaimed with disgust.

"He's a complete and total freak. I'm really starting to get worried," she replied, cringing slightly at the thought of Colin Collins. "He's been following me from class to class all week, did I tell you that he found out which locker is mine, and started putting love notes on it?" she questioned. Emilia's eyes widened.

"_Seriously_? Good Lord – he's getting worse!" she exclaimed, trying to fight back giggles. "Listen, if he gets _too_ scary, we'll just talk to a teacher about it. Colin's the kind of guy that just doesn't take 'no' for an answer," she assured her friend.

"I don't know, I think it's kind of cute," Charlotte commented. Both Emilia and Eli turned to her with raised eyebrows and questioning expressions. "I mean, I _know_ that he's not exactly a great catch –"

"Understatement of all understatements."

"- but not everyone has the luxury of gorgeous people falling over their own feet to be near them," she explained timidly. "I mean, Char's been practically stalking Jay since she came to Rosings, Darcy's _always_ looking at Eli, along with most of the guys at this school, and the rest are hopelessly devoted to Emilia, who already has George," she explained bitterly.

"Charlotte! Don't talk like that!" Emilia urged her, wrapping her arms quickly around her friend's shoulders. "You're a _beautiful_ girl, you're funny and smart, and any guy would be _lucky_ to have you!" she cried warmly.

"Charlotte, you have nothing to be jealous of!" Eli assured her, she too moving to hug her friend tightly. "Darcy isn't interested in me. He just likes pissing me off because I can't help but react," she assured her.

"And George and I are just friends. He's a _grown up_, I'm not even eighteen yet," Emilia reminded her.

"I _know_, but… well, the Valentines Day ball is coming up, and I want to have a date for this one! I _hate_ having to sit down through all the dances," she trailed off sadly.

"Sweetie, I'm _sure_ that you're going to get a date, and even If you _don't_, which is really unlikely, we'll all go together anyway," Emilia promised her.

"Yeah, we'll pretend we're a band of lesbians," Eli declared decidedly. Charlotte laughed, and wiped her twinkling eyes, smiling warmly.

"Thanks, guys. You always cheer me up," she sighed happily.

"That's our mission in life," Eli swore smilingly, giving her friend another tight hug. They fell back in a peal of giggles, Eli falling off the couch with a thump on the floor, before hiding back more giggles.

"Oh, that's right – toss the Australian on the floor, because we all bounce like kangaroos!" she cried, her eyes twinkling teasingly.

"You speak of these kangaroos all the time, Eli, but we're yet to see any _evidence_ that those overgrown bunnies exist," Charlotte pointed out.

"Duh, Charlotte, it's called the _internet_," Emilia pointed out teasingly, her eyes sparkling with humour as she glanced down at the floor to her friend. She slid off the couch, checked that Eli had survived the fall, and then started to pull out her textbooks and notes. Exams were approaching for all students, including Eli, so tiny moments were snatched and filled with study as much as possible.

"I'll email Nat and ask her to send a wallaby over this weekend, they're smaller than roos. They'll fit in the mailbox better," Eli informed her friends, her cheeky grin not fading. She gave a long sigh, lying back on the rug tiredly.

"Classes are getting hard?" Charlotte questioned sympathetically.

"Not hard, really, I do all my homework in class, but then the teacher thinks they need to give me more work. I've got a million essays that I need to do this week, not to mention a research project for history, _and_ I still have to finish three pages of stuff for Iconography, I guess that school's miserable in England _and_ Australia," she sighed in response, adjusting her beanie back onto her head.

"Did she faint, or something?" she heard a voice question from the other side of the student lounge. She didn't bother to look up, she could tell Clare's voice apart from any other in a heartbeat.

"Yes. Quick, call a paramedic," Eli droned sarcastically. Had her eyes been opened, she would have rolled them.

"I think she's dead."

"She just _spoke_, Michelle. Dead people don't talk."

"Sorry, Clare."

"Stop sucking up to my sister, Michelle," she heard Char direct Clare's dark-haired friend. "You alright, Eli?" he questioned.

"Perfectly adequate – my life only sucks a little today," she replied with sarcastic cheerfulness.

"Eli, don't be like that," Jay's soothing voice instructed her. Eli snorted, and sat up a little, rubbing her tired eyes. Clare, Celosia and Michelle had begun their usual practise of ignoring her, and were sitting in couches, pouring over the latest issue of _Vogue_. Jay sat on the armrest of Char's chair, closer to him than Eli had ever seen before. It was only Darcy's presence that was annoying her, as he lurked slightly detached from the crowd, his expression dark and brooding.

"I'm a teenager. I'm allowed to be self-indulgent," she replied simply, lying back on the ground, her head rested on Emilia's lap.

"Swooning for me?"

"As always, love."

"You know, you two look really good together," Charlotte commented, inspecting the two girls.

"Thanks – it's going to be a civil ceremony this weekend, I'm wearing the tux," Eli replied, her voice teasing and playful.

"I thought _I_ was the man!" Emilia objected. "It makes more sense, you've got bigger boobs than me," she pointed out.

"Do not!" Eli snorted. "Besides – I want to be the boy, I own more pairs of converse than you do," she rationalised.

"Hang on, I just remembered!" Emilia declared suddenly. "I like boys! Sorry Eli, I'm going to have to take a raincheck," she apologised.

"Fine for me, I have no idea how lesbians fornicate anyway," she shrugged.

"I _meant_ that you two looked really pretty together!" Charlotte declared, stifling her laughter at the girl's behaviour. "I mean, you're both really pale, and petit, but Eli has dark hair and dark eyes, and Emilia is the opposite," she explained. "And the fact that you're both _ridiculously_ gorgeous just makes you look like some sort of add right out of _Vogue_," she continued, rifling through her bag.

"Oi – no pictures!" Eli objected firmly.

"Come on, just a few? Please? You two both look so pretty," Charlotte pleaded, pulling a puppy-dog face. Eli sighed, and lay back on Emilia's lap.

"I'm not making an effort. You can take photos if you want, but I refuse to move," Eli informed her pointedly.

She relaxed as she blocked out the sound of the _click _of the camera. She shifted her gaze back over the group of people she was growing acquainted with, Jay and Char were talking in hushed, reverend tones, as usual, Clare was bitching with her sister and friend, as usual, and Darcy was watching her, as usual.

She was frustrated by him. She had once claimed herself a good reader of people, she boasted that she could pick up on emotions and thoughts quite quickly, but Darcy was a blank slate, she could get _nothing_ from him. It was impossible to know what the guy was thinking.

"Comfortable?" he questioned finally, after stepping towards her with his usual intense stares. She sat up; removing her head from Emilia's lap, trying to hide the frown that she knew wouldn't disappear from her face.

"Oh! That's perfect, Eli!" Charlotte cried, snapping up the picture quickly. Eli sent a quiet glare to her friend, who only laughed in response, before moving back to take pictures of the equally unwilling Emilia.

"So are you still auditioning for the musical?" he questioned, glancing down at her in his ever-silent manner. She rose unsteadily to her feet, brushing down her uniform.

"Yeah. Why?" she questioned carefully, measuring his reaction. Nothing.

"It's nothing, really," he replied, putting his hands in his pocket. His eyes didn't move from hers – but she directed her own gaze to the floor for a moment. Looking at him directly for too long sent a nervous shiver down her spine, one that she didn't feel at all comfortable with. "Do you –" he began, before pausing. She raised her eyes upwards. He was staring beyond her, at the fireplace. "Did you want to go for a walk, or something? We could talk that way," he offered.

She nervously chewed her lip. What game was he playing at?

"I have to change for gymnastics soon," she replied. He nodded.

"I'll walk you down to the gym, then. I wanted to talk to you about something," he replied. She hid back a slight growl of irritation.

"Fine. Let's go," she said, picking up her bag, and swinging it over her shoulder. They walked out of the lounge in silence, knowing full well that they were attracting stares and whispers. He said nothing until they were out of the room.

"Llewellyn is having a few problems with the musical. Apparently Clare's been complaining that she deserves the role of Christine, not you. She doesn't want you to audition," he stated suddenly. They began to walk through the corridor in silence.

"Well Llewellyn gave me the song from the musical in class, so obviously he thinks I'd be able to sing it," she said defensively.

"I know."

"Then why can't Clare get over herself?" she questioned with irritation.

"She's an accomplished singer. She has training. It's understandable that she resents you for getting that song and threatening her part in the musical, a part that on paper, she deserves more than you," he explained. Eli scowled.

"Yeah, thanks for that Darcy. What the hell did you bring me out here for, if not to insult me?" she snapped. "You could have done that back in the lounge – at least _that_ way, Clare and her bitchettes could get another bit of _entertainment_," she added coolly.

"I'm not insulting you," he stated in simple response.

"Yeah? Well it sounded a hell of a lot like you _did_," she snapped with anger. "I don't _get_ you! What's your problem with me? Why do you always stare at me like I'm some sort of circus freak, then patronise and insult me?" she questioned.

"I'm not _patronising_ you, and I'm certainly not trying to be insulting – I came out here to warn you that Clare is determined not to let you audition," he replied, his tone growing irked. Eli calmed her breathing, not realising that they had stopped walking altogether. She crossed her arms against her chest. "Listen, even if she gets the lead, there are other parts. You could play Carlotta, maybe, and you'd still get some solos," he assured her.

"Darcy, I don't give a damn about solos," she snapped. "Is that it, or can I go to gym now?" she questioned coolly.

"I saw you talking to Gershom this morning," he stated suddenly. He looked agitated, but she couldn't tell if it was from their earlier arguing, or the new topic.

"Who on earth is Gershom?" she questioned, frowning slightly in confusion.

"He's in upper sixth form. He got rid of Colin, and then he couldn't take his filthy eyes off you," he said roughly, shoving his hands in his pockets in irritation. He looked like he was about to pace.

"He didn't tell me his name," she replied, _but I wouldn't tell anyone MY name if my parents had called me 'Gershom'_, she thought quietly to herself. "He got rid of Creepy Collins for me. He seemed really nice," she shrugged. A flash of anger passed over Darcy's face momentarily.

"Listen, I don't want you to get the wrong idea about him," he said suddenly, glaring at his shoes, before raising his eyes to meet hers. "He's not the kind of guy you should be talking to. You should keep away from him," he advised quietly.

Eli tore her eyes away from him.

How _dare_ he presume to tell her who she could and couldn't talk to? What kind of nerve did he _have_, to imagine that he could just waltz in and try and take over her life!

"Elizabeth, you need to trust me on this," he said firmly, his pale eyes flashing.

"I don't need you to look after me," she managed to choke out, holding back her cries of anger. She didn't meet his eyes.

"Listen, just… stay away from him, okay?" he requested. "I have to go, but I just wanted to make sure that you… well, knew that you should steer clear from Gershom. Pretty girls just seem to get sucked into him," he muttered nervously, running a hand through his dark brown hair.

"Thanks," she spat sarcastically, but in his agitation, he didn't notice it. "I have to go to gym. I'll see you around," she muttered finally, turning her back to him, and walking away.

How _dare_ he? How dare he think that he had the _right_ to just – _God_! He made her so angry! So _what_ if a guy talked to her? He didn't have any right to just trample all over that for his own sick amusement!

She shook her head in frustration as she stormed through the hall.

She was beginning to _really_ dislike Darcy.

**A/N: This is a big chapter. And I updated early. Wow. I really love you guys :D I'm glad that you all seem to like it so far, it really makes my day to hear about that, particularly as term just started… Only ten weeks and then I'm in year twelve! And after year twelve I'll be finished! AHHHH! I feel too little to finish school already! I can't even drive yet! * is scared * bah… I'm going crazy. Please review, my lovely darlings ^__^**


	9. Feelings

"_What is this feeling, so sudden and new?_

_I felt it the moment I laid eyes on you_

_My pulse is rushing,_

_My head is reeling,_

_My face is flushing,_

_What is this feeling, fervid as a flame?_

_Does it have a name? Yes,_

_Loathing! Unadulterated loathing_!"

- Wicked, 'What is this Feeling'

"Francie! I'm home!" Eli called loudly as she pulled open the front door to her home a few weeks later, pulling off her bag and coat. "Me and some friends had hot chocolate after school and George drove us home, but I'm only half an hour late really," she continued, tugging her beanie off before she headed upstairs. She dumped her things in her room, and pulled off her uniform, changing to jeans and an oversized cream sweater that fell to her mid-thighs.

Slipping into the kitchen, she vaguely wondered why she hadn't heard her mother's screeching cries yet.

"Are you giving me the silent treatment because I was a little late?" Eli called, digging a strawberry custard cup out from the fridge, and grabbing a spoon after she heard murmurs from the formal sitting room. "Yoohoo? Francie? Sup, primary caregiver?" she questioned, stepping into the room.

"Does she do this _every_ day?" Headmistress du Bourg questioned coolly, looking Eli up and down with disapproving, cold dark eyes.

"Oh. Uh – I see you've got company," Eli muttered, looking around the room. Francie, Dorr and Jay were all assembled there, in addition to her Headmistress, Helena serving tea in nervous silence.

"Elizabeth! What have I told you time and time again!" Francie hissed in anger.

"Uhh… I don't know. It was something to do with shouting," she murmured awkwardly. "Well… I have… homework… and… study… and… voodoo… to do…" she muttered, taking a step back slowly.

"Not so fast, Miss Bennett," snapped the Headmistress coolly. "Sit down. I've just been discussing you and your sister with your parents," she declared.

"I really have lots of work to do," Eli lied, chewing her lip.

"It can wait," snapped the du Bourg.

"Sure. Fine. It's just my education," Eli muttered bitterly, taking a seat on one of the couches, hanging her legs over the side, taking a large spoonful of strawberry custard. She didn't care how she behaved in her own home; Headmistress du Bourg wasn't the boss of here _there_.

"Helena, please take that away," Francie ordered sharply.

"Hey, I'm hungry!" Eli cried, completely aghast as the reluctant maid took away her snack.

"And sit _up_, for goodness sake!" Francie continued. Eli adjusted her seating to a more appropriate position, but only to try and pull Helena, and thus her custard back to her grasp.

"And you've never considered a finishing school?" Headmistress du Bourg questioned incredulously, her tone one of distaste. "You clearly have the funds for such a thing, but why on _earth_ have you allowed her to get so out of hand?" she exclaimed.

"Dorr has always given her too much leeway," Francie said disapprovingly.

"I felt that Elizabeth's education was more important," Dorr defended himself coolly. "I didn't want her gift to go to waste."

"That's understandable. However, if you _truly_ wish for your daughter to become a part of _proper_ society, she needs to have her manners corrected _immediately_," Headmistress du Bourg said self-importantly.

"I've already started looking at a holiday program, Headmistress," Francie piped in.

"For goodness sakes Francine, I've told you to call me Catherine," she snapped in return. "A holiday program can only do so much. It's clear that Miss Elizabeth has the potential for success, but if she wishes to go to a good University, get a good job, find a good husband, she needs more than just a two crash course in femininity," she said firmly.

"Her studies come first," Dorr said suddenly. "We've been very lenient recently, letting her spend so much time with her friends, but that's just because she's been settling. I won't have her marks suffer so she can balance a book on her head," he continued, his voice stern.

"Hell_o_! Aren't girls my age supposed to have friends?" Eli questioned snappishly.

"You'll speak only when spoken to, Miss Elizabeth," snapped Headmistress du Bourg.

"_Dorian_! You heard what the Headmistress said! She _needs_ help!" Francie snapped.

"And she does. She requires all the help she can get, much more than your other girls," Headmistress du Bourg sniffed, glancing over at Jay, who was dressed perfectly, in a pale mint house dress. Clearly Francie had been given time to get her pride and joy prepared. "However, Miss Bennett hardly looks as if she needs a program. She holds herself well, and speaks appropriately to adults," she added. Francie beamed at her daughter.

"Can I go now?" Eli questioned listlessly. "It's just that I have an Iconography essay due tomorrow, and I still have to type it up," she explained, examining her fingernails with faked interest.

"This is what I'm talking about. This behaviour can't go on any longer," Headmistress du Bourg announced.

"How should we proceed, Head – I mean, Catherine?" Francie questioned immediately.

"To begin with, I believe she is coming of a certain age soon," she stated.

"She's turning sixteen in March," Francie replied.

"An important age in a young lady's life. Have you considered a celebration?" she questioned in response.

"George said that he'd drive Emi, Charlotte and I into London, and we could go laser tagging," Eli threw in. Headmistress du Bourg scowled.

"You haven't much time to prepare, but I can book you a venue. The club would be perfect. She needs to be properly presented to society," she stated, ignoring Eli's remark. "Your other daughters are a little old to make their debuts, but that cannot be helped, Australia hasn't the same culture of England," she said pompously.

"Isn't a debut one of those things they used to do in Jane Austen novels?" Eli questioned with confusion. "Wasn't it some sort of really formal way to find a guy?" she continued.

"You'll be in search of a suitor, as will all of your sisters," Headmistress du Bourg stated, nodding her perfectly coiffed head.

"Can I pass? I'd rather go to London," Eli retorted, but was silenced with a glare from her mother.

"You'll of course need preparation. The St Valentines Day ball is on at the club tomorrow night. She'll need a dress, as will your other daughters, but I'm sure that won't be a problem," Headmistress du Bourg said. "It must be reasonably modest, considering she is not yet out, but not plain. A child with her talents will need to be displayed, as will your eldest. However – I already have several suitors in mind for Miss Elizabeth, and she clearly needs more work, so perhaps she will need to be your main priority," she continued.

"Of course, Catherine," crooned Francie delicately. "All my girls will look stunning, I can assure you. They'll be a credit to Rosings Park College," she said, as Headmistress du Bourg smirked smugly.

"Good. All children with good families attend tomorrow nights event, I'm sure she'll have plenty to mix with," she stated promptly. "Until her coming out, I think a few High Teas will come in handy. Every Sunday at noon they're held, and last till about four. It will be a good opportunity to introduce her to a few people," she continued.

"Hang on, don't I get a say in this?" Eli questioned with irritation.

"Miss Elizabeth, I've told you once before, you will learn to _hold your tongue_," Headmistress du Bourg snapped coldly.

"B – but why _me_?" she asked angrily.

"You're gifted, and come from a good family, Elizabeth," Headmistress du Bourg snapped. "You and your eldest sister have the capacity to be very successful, this is a guarantee if you're placed in society. Miss Jasmine is _far_ more well-mannered than you, _she_ requires less effort. But I'm not the kind of woman to give up on a challenge when it presents itself," she continued.

"Joy," Eli muttered sarcastically.

"That's the attitude you need to change."

"I'm tired. Can I go upstairs now?" Eli questioned with frustration.

"You're no longer needed. You and your sister may leave," Headmistress du Bourg granted her. Eli jumped up immediately, and fled upstairs to her bedroom with haste. She paced with frustration, and let out an angry cry.

**13****th**** of February, 2009**

**5:12pm**

Dear Journal,

I have _no_ idea what's going on in my life anymore. All of a sudden Francie's joined this country club and become best friends with Cow du Bourg, and now I have to go to balls and high teas and have a debut party – Dorr doesn't give a damn about what's happening, all he cares about is my marks, I've got a creepy stalker at school, and Darcy is telling me to steer away from cute guys!

What the hell is _happening_? Why can't I just go home? I _need_ to go home; I miss Australia so much – none of this would have happened if it wasn't for Dorr's bloody job! No, if it weren't for my fucking label!

~ * ~

Eli threw her journal down in frustration, continuing her pacing of her room. She had no idea what was going on, what was happening with her life all of a sudden?

"Eli? Are you okay in there?" she heard Jay question tentatively, knocking softly on Eli's bedroom door.

"Depends on your interpretation of 'fine'," Eli muttered sharply in response. Jay pushed the door open slowly, and stepped in.

"You knew that Mum joined the club. You knew she was becoming friends with Headmistress du Bourg," Jay reminded her.

"I didn't know that it meant I was going to be forced to do all of this crap!" Eli cried angrily in response, kicking a pair of shoes lying on the floor in frustration. "I hate this fucking country! I hate Francie, I hate Dorr, I hate that fucking dragon downstairs – I _hate_ this!" she continued, not caring if the whole street could hear her. She wanted to shout and scream as loudly as she could, she wanted to rip something apart, she wanted to tear something into little tiny pieces, she was practically shaking with anger, so much frustration building up inside of her with no vent, all she could think of was her _home_, the place where she belonged, her friends, and everything that she had been taken away from.

"Shhh, Eli, it's okay, sweetie, it's fine," Jay tried to soothe her, stepping closer with extreme care. She knew her sister's temperament well, she knew her capacity to feel things far too deeply, to have hugely emotional reactions and outbursts – she called it the cost of being a genius.

"It's not okay! It's _not_ okay!" Eli cried, picking up a shoe, and throwing it as hard as she could at the wall. It landed with a mighty crash, falling to the floor harmlessly. "It's not fair that I had to go! Why did we have to leave?" she questioned, wiping angry tears away.

"Eli, honey… calm down," Jay begged her.

"I want to go home."

"This is home now, Eli. Just get some rest, honey. It's all going to be fine," Jay soothed her, wrapping her arms tightly around her sister, who was now crying silently. She still felt so damn _furious_ at what was happening. All that talk of suitors and balls and dresses, she couldn't stand it any longer. She sniffled quietly.

"Sorry, Jay," she muttered, stepping back. "I just – this is all making me so _angry_. It's not fair," she murmured with frustration.

"I know, sweetie. But we can't change the past," Jay reminded her softly, smoothing back her hair. "Why don't you have a nice long bath, and go to sleep early tonight? I guess we have to go dress shopping tomorrow," she laughed. Eli sighed, and nodded.

Jay let herself out of the room in silence. She knew her sister well enough to understand that she still needed some time to process.

~ * ~

"So your Mum let you skip half your day just to get a dress?" Emilia questioned in astonishment.

"I guess so. She's weird like that," Eli muttered with a shrug, glancing over her timetable as she absent-mindedly bit into an apple. "It's alright. I had a double free anyway, I only missed French, but I can get the work later," she added.

"So what's your dress like?" Charlotte asked curiously.

"Uhhh… well, it's alright. Lace," she said with a slight shudder. "It looks like a nightgown, really, but it's sweet," she shrugged.

"Mine's purple. Kind of boring, but I like the colour," Charlotte threw in. "Did George end up getting you that dress, Em?" she questioned, turning to her blonde companion, who was tapping away at her laptop to finish her Extension English homework in time.

"Yeah, it arrived yesterday afternoon. I wasn't really interested in going, but the dress is so darn cute, and George made such an effort, even though I told him not to…" she laughed absentmindedly.

"Hang on, are you guys going?" Eli questioned with confusion.

"A lot of people here go. Mainly seniors. They don't usually like having younger kids there," Charlotte explained. "But your parents need to be members for you to go. It's a society thing," she continued.

"I _really_ don't want to go," Eli sighed miserably.

"It's fun, there's music, and _really_ nice food, and everyone dresses up pretty," Charlotte tried to entice her.

"Eli, I've been going for years. It's not that bad," Emilia threw on.

"Which explains why you didn't want to go then," Eli pointed out. Emilia laughed.

"I actually kind of like going, normally. I didn't want to go this year because I've never gone without my Mother, but George has been trying so hard to make it special for me," she shrugged.

"Oh – fuck Em, I did it again," Eli sighed. "I'm sorry. I completely forgot what you must be going through," she apologised. Emilia laughed, and waved her off.

"I'm fine. And it's going to be really exciting Eli, you can meet a whole heap of people," she replied.

"So is George going to be your date?" Charlotte asked teasingly. Emilia rolled her eyes.

"Funny, Charlotte," she said sarcastically, fighting the small grin. "And Eli, you're lucky you weren't here earlier. No matter where you turned this morning, _someone_ was doing a horrible performance of '_I will always love you_' with a dozen red roses," she added.

"Ew!" she laughed, shuddering at the thought. "Did you guys get anything?" she questioned curiously.

"Nothing yet, other than the roses we sent each other," Charlotte said, indicating the long stemmed red rose she had pinned to her jumper, identical to the one on Emilia's and Eli's.

"I got some of those candy hearts from a first former, there's this adorable little kid who thinks I'm an angel or something," Emilia replied.

"I refuse to go anywhere near my locker. Jay said that Colin did something… weird to it," Eli muttered, shaking her head at the thought.

"Oh, we tore it down earlier. It was hideous. Pink tissue paper, lace, confetti, glitter, it was disgusting," Charlotte informed her.

"Thank _God_," Eli cried with relief, lying back on the couch. "I was terrified about going near it. I can only hope that no one saw it," she muttered.

"Yeah… well, about that…" Emilia muttered, her pale eyes twinkling. Eli groaned.

"Don't tell me. I mean it, _really_, please don't tell me," she begged, pulling her Modern History textbook up to her face and pretending she wasn't dreading finding out.

"Hi! I'm looking for some girls," a cheerful voice announced. Eli lowered the textbook. There was a delivery man with a whole trolly full of roses, stuffed animals and chocolates. He had a clipboard and a really lame hat perched on his head.

"And girls in specific?" Emilia questioned teasingly. The delivery man looked down at his clipboard, shuffling through several small photographs he had there to identify who he was delivering to.

"You must be… Emilia Woodhouse, right?" he questioned hopefully.

"Oh God. I swear, if George is being annoying again –" she muttered.

"She is," Charlotte assured the man excitedly. He grinned.

"You've got a few things," he informed her, turning to the trolly, and beginning to go through the gifts in there. Eli and Charlotte laughed mercilessly as Emilia groaned. "Happy Valentines Day!" he said cheerfully, passing her first a bouquet of white lilies, then a dozen red roses, four boxes of chocolate, two teddy bears and one giraffe, more tulips than humanly possible, and probably every bluebell in the entire country.

"Is that all from George?" Eli questioned in amazement, as the gifts continued to pile up around Emilia, people gathering around to watch.

"Oh no. George isn't quite as subtle as this," she muttered miserably, glancing back up to the delivery man. "There's more, isn't there. And it's going to be embarrassing," she stated. He gave her a sympathetic smile.

"I'm sorry that I have to do this, but we received specific instructions," he apologised, before giving her one packet of candies hearts. He sighed, walked swiftly over to the door leading into the student lounge, and knocked three times, before stepping back.

"Oh fuck. I'm going to murder George," she muttered miserably. In walked a poor unfortunate soul forced to wear a ridiculous foam cupcake costume, complete with a 'cherry' on top.

"_You're my honey-bunch, sugar plum,_

_Pumpy-umpy-umpkin,_

_You're my sweetie-pie,_

_You're my cuppy-cake, gumpdrop,_

_Shnookums, shpookums you're,_

_The apple of my eye!_

_And I love you so,_

_And I want you to know,_

_That I'll always be right here,_

_And I love to sing, _

_These songs for you,_

_Because you are so dear!_"

The entire room was silent when the giant cupcake finished singing.

"Thank you," Emilia said soberly, as if daring everyone in the room to laugh.

"There's a message, too," the cupcake informed her.

"Oh, I'll bet there is."

"George says 'Happy Valentines Day wench, I hope you're enjoying yourself. I sent plenty of flowers to make it look like people actually love you'," he read from a piece of paper held in his cupcake-hand. Emilia stifled a grin. "'With all my love, George. PS. I'll seriously kick you out if you don't stop leaving your towels on the bathroom floor'," he finished, sounding rather miserable.

The entire room exploded into laughter. The cupcake just rolled his eyes, and handed Emilia a full bouquet of gorgeous dark red roses and baby's breath. She blushed as she took the bouquet, and fingered one of the petals very delicately. She pulled out an envelope hidden in the layers of cellophane and tissue paper, a small smile creeping onto her face. She didn't open the envelope, clearly saving it till later.

"You've only been staying with him for a week and you've already driven him mad?" Charlotte asked with laughter. Emilia shrugged.

"He's just a sissy," she replied, her eyes twinkling. She thanked the cupcake, who left the room as quickly as he could, completely shame faced. "This is payback for what I did to him last year. It was a male stripper though, and he sung '_Tiptoe through the tulips_', wearing nothing but a Hawaiian shirt," she explained with a small grin. Eli and Charlotte stifled laughter.

"What did you do this year?" the latter questioned curiously. She gave another tiny smirk.

"I'd rather let George tell you about it," she grinned.

"I've got more here too," the delivery man announced, interrupting their questioning as he turned to Eli. "Elizabeth Bennett, right?" he questioned. She nodded nervously.

"Uhh… if there's a singing baked good, then don't worry. I don't want it," she assured him. He glanced over his clipboard.

"Sorry, no singers. But you've got lots of stuff too," he said, indicating the trolly.

"Oh _God_," Eli murmured miserably, as she began accepting gifts with a bright red face.

She received, in total, eight individually wrapped roses, one bouquet of six, and another two with a dozen, some tulips, a few daffodils, three bags of candies hearts, one small stuffed teddy bear, one rabbit, a box of variety chocolates, a box of dark chocolate, two blocks of Cadbury Dairy Milk, and a total of seventeen phone numbers.

"I bet you get a lot of satisfaction from your job," she practically spat as the delivery man passed her the last red rose.

"Not as much as you'd think," he answered, finally turning to Charlotte. "Here you go," he said, passing her a large bouquet of yellow roses.

"R – really? For me?" Charlotte exclaimed, her eyes wide as she accepted them almost breathlessly.

"They're so pretty!" Emilia and Eli both gushed. They had no note with them, but considering how upset Charlotte had been a few days earlier about her appearance, it was more than she had expected, and was received with delight.

After the delivery man emptied the rest of his trolly on several more unsuspecting victims, he finally left.

"How on earth do we get all of this home?" Eli asked suddenly.

"Give it all away to other people," Emilia shrugged, popping a chocolate into her perfectly painted pink mouth.

Eli managed to fit most of her gifts into her bag, but didn't feel up to giving any of them away. She felt it would be too cruel to whoever had given them to her. She walked to music with a small smile on her face, trying not to look too pleased. Her ego had already received quite a boost.

"My. _Someone_ is quite popular today," Llewellyn commented as she walked into the classroom bearing her gifts. He evaluated her full arms with an amused smile. "Secret admirers?" he questioned.

"Most of them. I have a suspicion my sister bought me all of these to make me feel good, though," she shrugged with a small grin. She pulled a pink rose from the bouquet in her hand and gave it to her teacher. "Happy Valentines Day, sir," she said cheerfully.

"Why thank you, Eli," he chuckled in response, accepting it with a grin.

"Did you get anything from secret admirers then sir?" she questioned curiously. Llewellyn's warm golden eyes twinkled with amusement.

"A few roses here and there, mostly from very kind students," he replied laughingly. "Although, it could just have been my sister trying to boost my ego," he added with a grin. Eli laughed as she took a seat, whilst the classroom started to fill up with students.

"I'll have to see my chiropractor before the ball tonight – my bag is just _so_ heavy, what with all of these gifts," a rather loud voice sounded from the doorway. Clare strutted into the room, Michelle following obediently behind, carrying large bouquets of flowers and gloriously wrapped chocolate boxes. "Oh. Eliza. Isn't that cute – did you send those to yourself?" she questioned coolly, her eyes meeting Eli's, noting the flowers and gifts spilling out of her bag.

"Huh? All this? No, I've decided to study horticulture. It has nothing to do with Valentine's day," she replied sarcastically, hiding a grin. Not even Clare could ruin her improving mood.

"Can we have some order, please?" Llewellyn requested above the chatter of the students, all discussing their gifts and admirers in gleeful voices. Clare sent one last cold glare to Eli before taking a seat. "We're going to start work on _Good Morning Baltimore_ today –" he began, before he was interrupted by one last student stepping into the classroom, just a few seconds away from being late.

Darcy took his seat opposite Eli in silence, glancing briefly at her pile of flowers and gifts on the floor, as if they angered him. She sent him a challenging glare, noting his own bag was overflowing with presents from hopeful admirers.

"As I was saying – we're starting _Good Morning Baltimore_ today. But since neither Eli or Darcy are in this piece, I think it's high time you two started the piece from _The Phantom_," Llewellyn continued, glancing over at Darcy, who merely nodded, and placing his violin case on the desk.

Eli couldn't believe that she had already been at Rosings for over a month, and hadn't heard Darcy play the violin once. He was always at the keyboards, or assisting Llewellyn in the organisation, he had done very little practical work by that stage.

"Darcy, why don't you and Eli take one of the practise rooms and do your piece whilst I run the rest through _Good Morning Baltimore_?" Llewellyn suggested, pulling forwards his folder filled with sheets for the piece.

"Of course," Darcy murmured simply, picking up his bag and case, heading out of the room without a glance back to Eli. She grabbed her bag and folder and followed him in silence. "We'll use this one," he announced suddenly, stepping into a single room without even asking her if she wished to use another. She bristled slightly, but entered without objection.

"So how are we going to do this?" she questioned, glancing around. The room wasn't particularly large, about the size of a bedroom, or less. It had a large keyboard resting against the wall, and a computer so they could playback their performance.

"I'll play, you sing," he replied shortly, placing his violin case on the desk, and his bag on the floor. "Four four timing, the verse is in B flat major, the chorus G major, you come in on a B flat," he recited, unclipping his case, and taking out his violin.

It was beautiful. A full sized Stradivarius, with a rich rosewood body varnished so darkly it was almost black. It fit perfectly into his hands, as if it truly belonged there. He took out his bow, and began to tighten it.

"I can read sheet music, you know," she reminded him with an edge of irritation, when she had recalled the power of speech.

"The key changes shouldn't be too hard. Try not to screw it up," he requested, taking out his rosin, slowly running it up the bow.

"Try not to screw up your accompaniment then," she snapped bitterly in response. He sent her a challenging glance.

"I don't screw up, as a general rule," he replied curtly. Eli wanted to call out his insane pride, but he continued before she could comment. "Warm up. You need to hit a G over high C, not to mention hold an F over C for a whole bar," he replied curtly.

"I already warmed up. And by the way, I can hit a G over high C easy," she snapped. He raised a single eyebrow.

"Then you shouldn't screw this up," he replied simply, taking up his instrument.

And then he played, and all thought flew from Eli's mind. It was a thing of beauty. The violin was an extension of his own hands, it _belonged_ there, he treated it delicately, as if it were a lover, caressing it with passion and feeling.

And then he stopped.

"You were supposed to come in on the second bar."

"I – I – sorry," she stammered, her face slightly pink, turning away, fixing her eyes on the music stand. "Let's just do it again," she said quickly. He gave her a brief, questioning glance, before nodding, and raising his violin beneath his jawbone one more.

She was prepared for his playing the second time, and after four beats, she came in on the B flat.

"_You were once my_ –"

"What the hell was that?" he questioned angrily, practically throwing down his violin.

"The first bar," she retorted, placing her hands on her hips. "Why did you stop? I came in on a B flat, on the second note went down a semitone, and then two beats on the D. Was it not up to your perfect standard?" she questioned sharply.

"Your projection was pathetic. How difficult is it to control your breathing?" he replied with frustration. "In from your diaphragm, your stomach should expand as inhale," he stated.

"It _did_ expand! Breathing is day one stuff – and my projection was fine," she snapped.

"It was barely mediocre. You aren't supporting your voice enough. Stop slouching," he ordered her sharply.

"I'm telling you, my projection was _fine_, and I was on pitch," she replied coolly.

"You're small. You need to take deeper breaths to carry the vocals," he responded.

"I am _not_ small!"

"_Yes_, you are, and you barely have a diaphragm because you're too petit. If you're not in pain, if you're not practically passing out, then you're not trying hard enough," he snapped. "Now try again, and sing as loudly as you can. Shout," he ordered her.

Eli scowled with frustration, but before she could voice another objection, he was beginning the intro. She took as deep a breath as she could, and then sung.

"_You were once _–"

"What the hell did I just say?" he growled, lowering his violin once more, cutting the song short.

"I took as deep a breath as I bloody well _could_, Darcy!" she snapped angrily.

"You used it all on the first note! How the hell do you expect to carry that for two bars?" he questioned her incredulously.

"I did what you said; I'm not going to kill myself trying to live up to _your_ standards!" she retorted pointedly.

"You're going to have to go back to breathing basics. I can't believe you've been allowed to get away with singing like that for so long," he snapped, putting down his violin.

"I breathe the way I'm supposed to, Darcy," she replied coolly, but before she could continue with any objections, suddenly he was all around her, his warm body pressed against her back, his arms wrapped around her waist, one pressing down just beneath her breasts, the other on her stomach.

"Breathe," he ordered her, his voice soft and delicate in her ear.

"Don't tell me what to do," she snapped, her voice somewhat shaky. He smelt divine…

"Just think of me as your Angel of Music, Elizabeth. Breathe," he directed coolly. Unable to think of any further objections, she took a deep, slow breath in. "Push on your diaphragm, and hold the B flat," he instructed.

Unable to fill her lungs with anymore air, Eli sung the note, loud and clear.

"Project… aim your voice. Concentrate on pushing it out," he directed, pressing down on her stomach as she exhaled. "And again. This time breathe deeper. Extend the note, keep on pushing it out."

Eli took another breath, deeper than before, and sung the note again. She started to crescendo, trying to keep her projection even as she sung the note at the top of her lungs, feeling her face go red. She was running out of air, but Darcy's warm hands on her stomach and diaphragm reminded her that she needed to continue to sing. She was beginning to feel faint, but still she sung, until her voice was tiny and weak.

She choked out the very last wavering beat, her chest constricting. She stumbled forwards, growing limp, taking big, gasping breathes of air. Darcy tightened his grip on her, pulling her form back to his chest.

"Better. Again," he demanded.

"I could hardly breathe!" she exclaimed angrily.

"But you held the note far longer than you did before, it wasn't until the last few seconds that you started to loose it. Sing it again," he responded.

And so she did. Again, and again, and again, each time holding the note for a few more seconds, each time getting louder, her voice growing stronger. It took twenty minutes before he considered her able to begin again. She was feeling woozy, her head very light, projecting to such extents had taken a lot out of her, but the feeling of his warm, strong body pressed against hers was making it difficult to process his instructions. She was vaguely aware that she should be disgusted with his liberties – but somehow, no such thoughts were floating in her clouded mind.

"Now try again," he directed, finally releasing her from his hold. He stepped away, once more taking up his violin. He regarded her with a challenging, but somewhat… contented expression. Eli couldn't understand it, so she ignored his soothing pale indigo eyes, and took in a deep breath.

She sung the normally quite difficult song with ease. The notes flew effortlessly from her throat, as if it were nothing more than a simple pop song. Darcy's playing was beautiful; he seemed to represent the whole accompaniment section with just his violin, playing as if he _were_ the music. It was beautiful. She had never seen a performer play with such intensity, such feeling and emotion; it was such a stark contrast to his usual behaviour and attitude.

"Good. But you could do better," he stated, when he had played the final note, and she held the F for the whole bar, fading off in a gentle decrescendo. She sent him an annoyed glare. The atmosphere that had just been building up shattered into a thousand miserable pieces.

"I'm not an opera singer, Darcy," she reminded him pointedly.

"This is soft opera, at best. And you have the potential to sing _real_ opera, if you give half a damn effort," he snapped.

"I'm trying."

"Well not hard enough!" he argued pointedly. "Llewellyn gave you this opportunity because he thought you could handle it. _Show him_ that you can pull this off," he urged her.

"Darcy, I'm _trying_! I'm working for it!" she responded, growing frustrated. Why was he pushing her?

"Listen, at this rate you're _never _going to get the lead in the musical, you'll be stuck in the chorus!" he argued. "Clare's voice isn't as good as yours, but she's been _trained_. She's got bigger lungs than you; she knows how to breathe correctly. You aren't even –"

"Pick up your fucking violin, and stop complaining," Eli snapped finally. "You say I'm not good enough? I'll show _you_ good enough!" she cried, angrily flicking back to the first page of music. Darcy evaluated her with a slightly questioning frown, but took up his violin regardless, and started to play.

"_You were once my one companion; you were all that mattered…_

_You were once a friend and father, then my world was shattered…_"

She sung clearly and purely, focusing intently on her breathing, filling her lungs with precious air as her head grew light with the force she was exerting. She noticed Darcy's eyebrows rise slightly as she sung, but she ignored him – focussing completely on her music.

"_Wishing you were somehow here again!_

_Knowing we must say goodbye,_

_Try to forgive, _

_Teach me to live!_

_Give me the strength to cry!"_

She sung with passion as the song rose to a climax, startling even herself. Her voice was clearer and more refined than it had ever been before, even when she was singing the usual kind of songs that she specialised in. She knew the song very well, having been a huge fan of the musical for years, but her standards of performance wasn't as high as Darcy's. He was demanding more than any of her past tutors have requested from her voice, he was testing her. Pushing her.

"_Let me say,_

_Goodbye!_"

She held the note for the full bar, and then went into a decrescendo, but singing it with such force was taking the wind out of her. She stumbled forwards for the second time that day, her chest feeling as if it had been stretched, drawn and quartered, before it was glued back together and shoved down her throat. She started to cough, falling to her knees.

"Better," was all that Darcy said when the song had finished. He passed her a bottle of water from his bag. She took it gratefully, and swallowed down a mouthful in haste.

"I can't do this everyday," she informed him, glancing up after she had caught her breath.

"Yes you can."

"_No_, Darcy, I can't. It'll kill me," she argued.

"You can, and you will. It'll get easier. If you want the part in the musical, you need to work for it," he stated. She muttered something insulting under her breath, and rose to her feet.

They packed up in silence, and headed back to class, where the other students were still working on the song from _Hairspray_.

"How did it go?" Llewellyn asked, as they put down their bags.

"Fine," Darcy said simply, placing down his violin case. Eli answered something of the like, trying to keep her eyes away from Darcy.

She had never sung better in her entire life. He had instructed her in a way that no other tutor had been able to do. He pushed her, so she pushed back. He shouted at her, he strained her, but all to get the best possible reaction from her. She knew that he had pushed her too far, but he knew that too. Even so, it wouldn't take her long to recover, she reasoned.

She couldn't handle the irony; Darcy brought out the worst in her.

But he also brought out the best.

She handed him back his water bottle in silence at the end of the lesson.

"Tea and honey. Rest," he instructed her simply, taking it back from her. She nodded. She was tired. She was strained. She just wanted to sleep – but she knew that it would practically be admitting defeat. "You sung well, Elizabeth. You can still do better, but that was good. You have a chance of getting the part in the musical," he informed her, noting her somewhat downcast expression.

"Thanks," she muttered quietly, not meeting his eyes. He nodded, picked up his bag and violin, and left the classroom. Eli watched him go in silence, before turning to her own bag, and pile of flowers sitting beside it.

She frowned slightly.

She could swear to God that the beautiful bouquet of daisies hadn't been there before.

**A/N: Next chapter is the Valentine's Day ball! Bwahahaha, that will be intriguing… And yes, Gershom is Wickham. But he's a far more spineless version than James in Sweet Lolita, more like a simpering teenage boy really. And this is the beginning of the end of Eli's freedom, too. But my pretties, it's not until chapter nineteen that the actual arranged marriage comes out, I'm afraid. But I'm hoping on finishing this story by the middle of September, because that will mean I'll have published three novel-length stories in one year :D So until the next chapter, my pretties! Please review ^__^**


	10. Stupid Cupid

"_Mama never loved her much, and daddy never keeps in touch,  
That's why she shies away from human affection  
But somewhere in a private place, she packs her bags for outer space,  
And now she's waiting for the right kind of pilot to come…  
And she'll say to him;  
I would fly you to the moon and back, if you'll be, if you'll be my baby  
Got a ticket for a world where we belong, so would you be my baby?_"

-Savage Garden, 'To the Moon and Back'

"So he shouted at you?" Jay questioned incredulously, looking over the mountain of bubbles to her sister, who was relaxing in the hot water, letting the scented steam fill her lungs and soothe her tired body.

"Several times. He's a prick," she replied, sitting up slightly, wringing out her just-washed hair in the bathtub.

"But he was doing it to get you to sing better," Jay reasoned thoughtfully, finishing up the last layer of varnish on her toenails.

"_Yes_, but the point still remains that he was yelling at me, pushing me around!" Eli argued, reaching over to the side of the bath to grab a towel, wrapping it over her head, rubbing her damp hair furiously.

"He certainly knows how to get the best out of you, Eli," Jay pointed out in response. "I think he cares about you. Maybe Gershom isn't the kind of guy you should be hanging around, it could be that Darcy is looking out for you, that's why he warmed you off him, and that's why he was pushing you today," she reasoned.

"Listen, I don't like Darcy. I have my reasons, okay? So can we talk about something else?" she requested tiredly, standing up, and grabbing her bathrobe. "Like Charmont?" she suggested. Jay's cheeks turned pink, but she took the bait. She always enjoyed talking about Char.

"He's just so clever, and so funny! You know, he's going to be a doctor," Jay raved excitedly. "He was thinking a surgeon, but then he decided that he'd rather be a paediatrician, because he likes kids," she continued excitedly.

"How close are you two?" Eli questioned curiously, stepping out of the bathtub.

"Well… he sent me some roses and a teddy bear today," Jay blushed, chewing on her bottom lip anxiously. "I really like him, Eli. He's cute, he's funny, he's smart, he's _so_ sweet, I just – I _really_ hope he likes me," she sighed dreamily, following her sister out of their shared bathroom, into her bedroom, where Helena was going to get them ready for the ball.

"No shit, Sherlock. He'd have to be death, mute, blind, and just plain _stupid_ not to like you," Eli replied, pulling the towel off her head. "He's practically in love with you. I've seen him follow you around like a lost puppy dog; you two are perfect for each other. _Neither_ of you can ever stop smiling," she continued.

"I can dream, but I don't want to like him too much. Guys like Char don't go for girls like me – what if I fall for him, Eli? And what if he doesn't fall for me in return?" she questioned softly, her eyes wide and fearful. Eli sighed.

"Just be yourself, hun. If he's interested, he'll go for it. If he's not, then he's a dipshit, and he's not worth it anyway," she reasoned. Jay laughed, and nodded gratefully.

"Eli, sometimes I feel like _you're_ the big sister, and I'm the youngest. You're so full of good advice," she sighed, falling back on Eli's bed.

"If I were full of advice, I'd know how to dodge Creepy Colin tonight. Emi said that we _have_ to dance, and I just _know_ that the little creep is never going to leave me alone," she sighed miserably.

"Are you kidding? You got a pile of flowers today, I'm sure there are _lots_ of guys that will want to dance with you," Jay replied. "Why don't you dance with Darcy? It'll give you a chance to get to know him," she suggested. Eli snorted in disagreement, and started casting her eyes around the room for her hairdryer.

"Because Darcy's rude, pushy, uptight, and a downright _pig_. I admit that he's gorgeous, but that doesn't make up for his giant ego," she snapped. Jay sighed.

"I'm sure he's not as bad as you think. Give him a go," she advised. Eli rolled her eyes, but didn't continue the argument. She could see no reason to do so.

Getting ready for the party was actually quite fun. Eli enjoyed being able to laugh and giggle with her sister as Helena prepared them, trying on jewellery and shoes, prancing around the room in their new dresses. Helena pronounced them beautiful after a good two hours work, and Eli couldn't help but quietly agree with her.

She felt that she looked… rather pretty. She wore a very cute dress in a beautiful shade of ivory, it ended a little above her knees, was tight over her figure, had a sweet little lace collar and sleaves, with a little black bow tied around her waist. It was sweet, modest, and wearing it, she felt for one of the first times in her life, actually _nice_ next to Jay.

Jay of course, looked stunning. Her blue satin dress hung beautifully from her body, showing off her long slender legs and smooth back, her hair straightened for once, sitting pleasantly about her shoulders. Her eyes twinkled brightly with excitement at the upcoming night.

"You look _amazing_, Eli!" she exclaimed breathlessly, as Eli stood, sliding into her pale cream pumps. "The hair really suits you. Now I wish I had let Helena do mine!" she said wistfully.

Eli glanced at her reflection with a small sigh. She had been somewhat hesitant, when Helena had suggested she get 'bangs', but she found that she liked them a great deal. They suited her facial structure well, adding a sort of elegance to her face that she had never suspected could appear. Her dark auburn curls spiralled about her face and shoulders very prettily, a few strands tied over to meet at the back of her head, tied with a little black ribbon. Her pretty rosette earrings glimmered in her soft bedroom lighting.

"She did a good job. And _you_ look stunning, my good sister," Eli replied, turning back to jay, who blushed prettily in response.

"Come on, we had better go, Helena should be finished with Mum and the twins by now," she replied, tossing her sister her new coat. Francie had bought all her girls new shoes, dresses, accessories, and they each received a gorgeous satin trench coat, Eli's in white, to set off the beautiful colour of her dress. Jay's was in midnight blue, drawing out her gorgeous eyes. They headed downstairs with haste, where Dorr was waiting with impatience.

"Are you ready?" he questioned, glancing up at his girls as they joined him in the entrance hall. He frowned as they affirmed his question, looking them up and down. "Seems like a waste of time to me. But I suppose England is a different cup of tea, as it were," he muttered, glancing at his watch.

"You look good, Dorr," Eli commented. Her father had dressed well, in a pair of dark slacks and matching suit jacket, with a black Oxford shirt and silver tie. His white hair was slicked back, his face shaved.

"Hmm," he murmured in response. Eli hid back a sigh. She was used to her father's impersonal manner.

"Oh, Jay! You look so wonderful!" Francie gushed, rushing down the stairs, Lyla and Kate following hot on her heels. Their dresses were much shorter, tighter, and low cut than Jay or Eli's, and their makeup much heavier, but they seemed to be allowed to get away with almost everything they attempted. "Hurry up then, or we'll be late!" she cried, ushering her daughters and husband out of the house.

From the moment they arrived at the huge, incredibly ornate 'club' and their coats had been taken, Eli detached herself from her parents and other siblings, winding her way through splendidly dressed men and women, searching for her friends as Jay sped off to find Char.

"Woah. Eli – you look gorgeous!" came a cry from behind.

"Holy shit. Emilia, _why_ are you at this party and _not_ in front of a camera somewhere?" Eli exclaimed, turning around in surprise.

Emilia looked simply stunning. She wore a gorgeous silk scarlet dress with a modest enough front, falling over her amazing figure elegantly, before tightening around her waist, and flowing elegantly over her hips, falling down to her knees. The back plunged into a daring V cut, and the underarms allowed a glimpse at the sides of her breasts, all in all, it was gorgeous, it was sexy, and it was very, _very_ Emilia. Her pale blonde curls framed her face elegantly, and had been styled differently so that they looked shorter, almost like a sort of 1920s bob, a look that suited her _very_ well. Her eyes were large and smoky, her lips bold and red, her killer facial structure emphasised well with faint hints of rogue, all in all, she was _hot_.

"Don't encourage her. An ego is the last thing she needs," George urged her. He too looked very handsome by Emilia's side, wearing a charcoal linen three piece suit with pinstripes and no tie, his hair actually _brushed_, his eyes dark and twinkling. A single rose was tucked into one of his buttonholes, and around Emilia's slender wrist, its twin was tied to a glittering diamond bracelet. "_You_, however, are stunning. Very pretty, Eli," he praised, stepping forwards, and pressing a slight kiss to her cheek.

"I feel like crap standing near Emi, to be perfectly honest," Eli admitted, still drawing in the appearance of her friend with wide eyes.

"George bought me the dress. It's the same one that was used in the _Coco Mademoiselle_ commercial with Keira Knightley, but _unfortunately_ Keira is ridiculously tall, and has no tits, so it had to be altered," she explained excitedly.

"Hmm. If I had known that it was going to be so immodest I would have bought you a paper bag instead. I'm not liking the looks you're getting," George said sternly. Emilia rolled her sparkling silver eyes.

"Quiet now. Seriously though Eli, that dress makes you look beautiful, jaws are dropping," she interrupted him. George chuckled, and loosely wrapped his arm around Emilia's waist. They looked the perfect couple.

"Have you seen Jay? You wouldn't be saying that if you knew how beautiful she looks," Eli sighed.

"Do girls just compliment each other all day?" George asked curiously.

"To each other's faces, yes. To their backs, no," Emilia replied, her eyes twinkling brightly.

"You see, men don't do that. Howl and I just drink scotch and listen to the Stones," he muttered, almost wistfully.

"What kind of freak would call their kid Howl?" Eli questioned with a slight frown.

"Howl is Professor Llewellyn's first name. He and George are practically connected at the hip," Emilia explained.

"Howl Llewellyn. _Weird_," Eli shuddered.

"He's Welsh," George replied, as if it explained everything. "His full name is really funny, actually. 'Howell Siôrs Rhydderch Llewellyn'. Ask him to pronounce name of the town he was born in, you'll be there for hours," he advised, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief.

"You're a terrible influence on me," Eli replied. "Oh, and I meant to ask, what did Emilia get you for Valentine's Day?" she questioned. George rolled his eyes.

"It was quite original this year," he said, as Emilia grinned smugly. "She set up a model tracks that went through the whole floor and led into my office with a plastic pink train that puffed pink fog and sung Barbara Streisand, with an army of stuffed toys in the carriages. They were all carrying little flags that said 'I wuv you Gigi'," he informed her somewhat miserably.

"I thought it was pretty funny," Emilia giggled.

"Hmm. I'm going to start working on next year's prank now," George decided firmly.

"You'll need more than a year to think of one to top the singing cupcake," she said sarcastically. "Now. Are you going to dance with me tonight, or is my card free for all?" she questioned, poking him in the chest. He chuckled.

"Not if you're going to treat me so poorly. I might just have to dance with Eli," he replied in mocking stiffness.

"Oh, but Elizabeth's going to dance with _me_, sir!" came a nasally voice from behind. Eli shuddered.

"I'm sorry, but I have no recollection of agreeing to that," she retorted, turning around, her eyes twinkling with anger.

"But of _course_ we're going to dance together, Elizabeth!" Colin chuckled, as if her reluctance was just a joke.

"Hey! Would you look at that – someone that I have to go talk to!" Eli announced, stepping away from Colin. She glanced over to George and Emilia, who were trying not to look too amused, before she gave them a small, apologetic glance, and disappeared into the crowd of people.

"Eli! Wow, you look fantastic!" she heard Charlotte exclaim. Rushing over to the refreshment table, Eli glanced over her shoulder to make sure that Colin wasn't following her.

"Same to you, hun," she replied. Charlotte looked rather pretty, wearing a dark purple satin knee-length dress, her hair straightened, her makeup tasteful.

"I certainly don't look as lovely as you or Emilia look. Have you seen everyone staring at her? And Jay, too, you all look gorgeous," she sighed wistfully.

"_You_ look gorgeous, Charlotte," Eli assured her friend. "Hey, have you seen Gershom around? I was hoping to see him tonight," she muttered, glancing around the beautifully decorated ballroom, alive with colour, light and chatter.

"Oh, Gershom never comes to any of these sorts of parties," Charlotte said simply, taking a sip of her punch. "He lives with his Aunt. No one knows how he pays for Rosings, he's pretty low on the social scale, you see," she explained.

"Social scale?" Eli questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, well, you know," Charlotte shrugged. "He's not like everyone else in this room. No one here is below upper-middle-class, George just doesn't make the cut," she clarified.

"I'm not sure I feel comfortable with this whole 'class' thing," Eli muttered frowningly. She wasn't angry at Charlotte, she knew that she didn't mean it to be rude or criticising, not like _others_. "It's a shame he's not here. But I guess I might see him at school," she said hopefully.

"So is your card already filled up?" Charlotte asked curiously.

"My… card?"

"Your dance card, silly. Haven't you got one yet?" she questioned. "They're over here," she said, leading Eli over to a small table, which held piles of pretty folded pink paper and tiny pencils. She grabbed one, and handed it to her. "When a boy asks you to dance, you write his name on your card, so you know when to fit him in. The dances start in about half an hour, mostly they're just waltzes though," she explained.

"Okay… but I can't dance," Eli said nervously.

"That's alright, the boy always leads," Charlotte assured her. "Try to sit out the Pride of Erin, that one's pretty hard, oh, and don't go near the Quadrille, or the Cotillion, but the rest are pretty easy, like I said, just waltzes," she advised her.

"A – are you sure? I'm not really that good at dancing in general," Eli practically stammered. "What's the point of all this? What kind of music will there be?" she questioned.

"Classical. Don't worry, you'll be fine," she assured her. "So when a boy asks you to dance, you can only say no if you've got a good reason, or if you don't have anymore places on your card. You politely say yes, and write his name in your card. Unless the dance is about to start, he'll go, and come find you just before," she explained. "The dances go from about three minutes to ten, and tonight there's going to be quite a few. A boy might ask a girl for a second dance, and that's okay, but if he asks for a _third_, then that's not really proper. Oh, and old men might ask you to dance, and you have to even if they're creeps," she continued.

"This kind of sucks," Eli muttered, chewing her bottom lip.

"Don't worry, hun, it's just one night," she replied. "Now, you're not out yet, so I wouldn't advise that you do too much dancing. And _only_ one dance per boy, and don't do the last set either," she added.

"I think I'm going to go throw up," she said miserably.

"Like I said, it'll all be _fine_. Now come on, we have to go and greet people," she said, linking their arms, and slowly beginning a walk around the ballroom.

It really was spectacular. It was all terribly Victorian, everyone was _completely_ overdressed, all laughing and gossiping away.

"Mother, Father, this is Elizabeth Bennett," Charlotte announced suddenly, stopping before a reasonably aged couple. The woman held her chin up rather high, as if she thought herself better than everyone else in the room, and the man had a very big handlebar moustache, and even larger pot belly.

"You're Charlotte's parents? Wow, it's really nice to finally meet you," Eli exclaimed. The woman narrowed her eyes. Charlotte nudged her in the ribs. "Uh – I mean, how do you do?" she corrected herself weakly.

"Very well, Elizabeth. We've heard capital things about you," Mr Lucas replied warmly. His wife still clung to his arm, as cold as a dead fish.

"Is this your first event in society?" Mrs Lucas questioned. "I haven't seen you before. Have you made your debut?" she asked sharply.

"Uh – it – it's in three weeks," Eli answered, not sure how to answer. "This is my first… event, I guess," she admitted.

"Well, I never would have guessed," she sniffed. "Now run along girls, I'm sure you have many people to meet," she added, dismissing them quickly. Charlotte pulled her away, back into the crowd.

"What the hell was that?" Eli whispered.

"My parents are old fashioned. Don't worry about it," she replied, glancing around. "We need to get you a partner for the first dance. There are some boys over there," she announced suddenly.

"Who are you dancing with first?" Eli questioned.

"Just Colin. He asked me because he didn't know what time you were getting here," she answered absentmindedly. "Now George will be dancing with Emi, and Char with Jay… what about Darcy?" she suggested.

"Ew! No, _not_ him!" Eli scowled. "He's always such a jerk to me. I wouldn't dance with him for all the money in the world," she said decidedly.

"Fine. Oh, look, you're in luck!" she said gleefully, pulling Eli around. A man of about twenty years of age was walking towards them. He had a pleasant enough face, nice chestnut hair and warm eyes, and he held himself with the air of someone important. "Christian! I didn't know you'd be coming," Charlotte exclaimed with a smile.

"My parents changed their mind at the last minute," the boy replied, glancing momentarily at Charlotte, before turning his gaze back to Eli with a growing smile. She felt slightly… unnerved. "So who is your little friend? I haven't seen her around before," he said, looking her up and down. Eli unconsciously tightened her grip on Charlotte's arm.

"This is Elizabeth Bennett, her family recently came here from Australia," Charlotte informed him. "She goes to Rosings Park with me. Eli, this is Christian Thompson-Ruperts, his father does business with my father," she introduced.

"It's a pleasure, Elizabeth," Christian said, holding out his hand. Eli reached for it, and was about to shake it, before he raised it to his lips. Her eyes widened slightly at the practise, but another nudge from Charlotte assured her that it was normal. "What part of Australia did you come from?" he questioned curiously, lowering her hand once more, his dark eyes shimmering intently.

"Uh – Port Stephens. It's not far from Sydney," she replied, trying to be polite. She felt like she was playing doll houses.

"I love Sydney. I went two years ago with my father's company, it's one of the most beautiful cities in the world," he replied. "Tell me, are you engaged for the first dance? It's a nice waltz, I believe," he questioned.

"I – uh, no," Eli replied nervously. He practically beamed.

"Well, would you mind if I monopolised your time then?" he requested.

"I – sure," she answered. His smile grew.

"Thank you, Elizabeth. I had best mingle now, but I'll see you for the first dance," he finished politely, giving a short bow. For lack of anything better to do, Eli made a minor, slightly clumsy curtsey. His eyes twinkled with laughter, before he disappeared into the crowd.

"Did I just agree to dance with someone?" Eli questioned almost breathlessly.

"Yes! Oh, and Christian is just _so_ perfect for you, he's in training to take over his Dad's shipping business, he's _really_ rich," Charlotte practically squealed.

"I – I – oh my God. I've turned into a monster," Eli muttered in horror.

"I _told_ you, you'll be fine," she laughed. "Now come on – let's go get you some more dances!"

By the time they had worked their way back over to Emilia and George, Eli had already been secured for five dances, and she had no idea how it had happened.

"Put me down for one, and it's because you're pretty, young, and well off, Eli," George informed her, when she aired her surprise.

"It might seem a little scary at first, Eli, but it's not so bad," Emilia assured her. "But I wouldn't do anymore than a dozen dances, you aren't out yet, remember," she added.

"There are _more_ than twelve of these things?" Eli exclaimed with slight disgust.

"I'm down for sixteen so far," she answered simply.

"Yeah, and that was _with_ me ghosting you," George threw in with slight irritation.

"You're dancing with me for three of those, might I remind you!" Emilia pointed out. He gave a small huff of irritation.

"I personally hate dancing. But you've got to do it," he sighed. "Oh, Charlotte, put me on yours too. I think that brings my torture sessions up to… six," he counted thoughtfully. "Joy," he added miserably.

"Stop whining, you big baby," Emilia directed him. "Have you seen Bella and Jonathan? I don't know if they're arriving late or not," she questioned, peering around the room.

"They'll probably be here late, or not at all. They _do_ have a baby now, Em," George pointed out.

"I _know_. That's why I was driven from my home, to the perils of your flat," she retorted.

"Hey, _you_ trashed _my_ apartment," George argued, his dark eyes twinkling. "One moment everything is nice and _organised_, and the next there's clothes everywhere, makeup on every counter, shoes in the kitchen, earrings on my desk, girly products in the bathroom cabinet, did you know that she used my razor to shave her legs?" he continued, sounding quite aghast.

"The same thing happened the _last_ time I lived with him. He's such a big baby," Emilia replied, rolling her eyes.

"She goes through my wardrobe, stealing my clothes."

"It's not _my_ fault he dresses well."

"She keeps trying to take _my_ bed, and make me sleep in the guest bedroom."

"His is _really_ comfy, you _have_ to try it."

"She made dinner last night. Pasta sauce on toast."

"It was _really_ good! He ate ten slices!"

"She's _always_ in the bathroom."

"Girls have to primp, George."

"She hogs the TV."

"Hey, he was up for the _Gilmore Girls_ marathon when I asked him."

"She stays up _all_ night, _every_ night."

"And yet he loves me living with him, I know," Emilia replied cheerfully. He pouted miserably.

"She's got me under her little finger," he sighed unhappily. She beamed.

"And don't I know it!" she boasted proudly.

"You guys are probably going to kill each other before the night is out," Charlotte sighed, shaking her head, trying to hide laughter. "Oh look! It's starting!" she exclaimed suddenly, as the lighting dimmed in the room.

Everyone turned their gaze to the platform at the front of the ballroom. It was decorated beautifully with pink, red and white trimmings everywhere, roses leaking out of every crevice.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," a familiar, cold voice greeted the room. Eli peered over heads to see Headmistress du Bourg standing on the stage, addressing the crowd.

"What's she doing?" Eli questioned Charlotte in a hushed whisper.

"She's the president of the Rosings Park Women's Society, they planned the event," she informed her quietly. "She's just giving the usual introductory speech before the first dances. Don't worry, it only takes a minute," she added. Eli nodded slowly, and took the opportunity to glance around the room. She had no interest in hearing her Headmistress speak, in fact, quite the opposite.

She studied the crowd as they all stared adoringly up at the dictator. She spied Jay not far from her, wedged between Char, who looked rather handsome, and Clare, who was wearing more makeup and less clothing than Eli had thought humanly possible. She hid back a laugh; Clare looked bright orange in the ballroom lighting with her fake tan.

Shifting her eyes away from the Bingleys, she noted her parents, Francie clinging tightly onto Dorr's arm, her whole body glittering with Cartier jewellery and her Armani evening gown, whilst Dorr just looked rather miserable. Lyla and Kate were both pressed between guys that could easily be ten years older than them, glasses of champagne in their hands (Eli didn't even bother to wonder how they had got them, she chose instead to ignore the majority of her family), giggling breathlessly like the tramps they were.

But there was _one_ person who wasn't watching the Headmistress drone on. She met Darcy's eyes with surprise, but found herself unable to tear them away. He was leaning against a wall in the corner of the room, completely out of site to everyone but her. He looked rather fantastic in his light grey three piece suit with a White Oxford shirt, a very light lavender silk cravat tied loosely around his neck. His hair had been combed, allowing her to see his eyes quite clearly. They shone with intensity.

She raised an eyebrow at him challengingly. He responded with his dark gaze.

"And with that, I declare this event officially opened," she heard Headmistress du Bourg finish. Charlotte nudged her friend, reminding her to clap. Tearing her eyes away from Darcy, she turned back to the front, and started to clap along with the rest of the room.

"What a stirring and moving speech," Emilia said sarcastically, turning to her friends.

"Did you listen to a word of it?" George questioned curiously.

"God, no. I was watching _Harry Potter_ in my head," she answered, as if offended that he had thought she _was_ paying attention to her Headmistress. He hid back a snort of laughter.

"Come on then, it looks like I'm going to be forced to dance with you," he sighed, taking her arm gently.

"Forced? Um, excuse me, _you_ wrote your name on every slot on my dance card," Emilia pointed out. "I had to get a new one because of him," she added with a slight frown. He rolled his eyes.

"Quiet now, silly child," he scolded her teasingly. "You two had better find your partners, the unpleasantness it about to begin," he informed Charlotte and Eli, his dark eyes twinkling.

"Alright. I'm going to go find Colin, wish me luck," Charlotte said miserably, as she spied Christian working his way through the crowd to Eli.

"You're going to need is almost as much as I am," she hissed in response. Charlotte laughed, and then disappeared.

"Elizabeth, I believe I have this dance with you?" Christian announced suddenly, appearing before Eli as if by magic.

"Uh, that would be correct," she answered, allowing him to take her hand, and lead her to the dance floor, where couples were assembling for the first waltz. "I should warn you, I can't really dance," Eli admitted.

"That's fine," Christian chuckled as the music started. "Just put your right hand here, that's it, and your left here," he said, heading one hand to rest on his shoulder, her other gripped in his. He placed his free hand on her waist. "Now the waltz is a simple 'one, two, three' dance, alright? Just let me lead, and I'll show you how to do it," he directed.

"Umm… okay," Eli replied nervously, stepping backwards as he stepped forwards, allowing him to lead her in a small circle with more grace than she knew she possessed.

"See, you're doing wonderfully," he assured her. Eli gave a nervous sort of laugh, and raised her eyes from her feet for a moment, flashed him a tiny smile, before directing her gaze back to her feet.

Christian was quite nice. He seemed pleasant enough, he assisted her in her dancing, but after about a minute of conversation, she realised that she wouldn't be asking him for a second dance. All he could talk about was his cars, his horses, his motorbikes, he just droned _on _and _on_, she was practically ripping her own ears out by the time the dance ended.

"Are you free for the next?" he questioned, a glimmer of hope shimmering in his warm brown eyes.

"No, I'm afraid," she replied with a tiny, apologetic smile, but in truth, she was far from disappointed. He sighed.

"Oh well. Just as long as you promise me another dance at your coming out," he requested. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"Uhh… sure," she replied nervously. He thanked her, before disappearing.

"Elizabeth! I've come to claim you for this dance!" another boy, Emmanuel, announced, appearing out of thin air before her.

"Oh. Yes, right," she murmured, allowing him to take her hand and waist.

She didn't pay much attention to Emmanuel. She was too busy thinking about what Christian had said.

Was her birthday party going to be some sort of 'free for all'? Was she going to be auctioned off like some sort of Geisha? Was the rest of her life going to involve balls and parties and dancing with boys that she didn't know, or _like_?

"Thank you, Elizabeth. Are you free for another?" Emmanuel questioned, after talking to himself for four minutes.

"I'm sorry, someone else already called dibs," she replied, with a small, faked sigh. He gave her a bow, and left.

And so it went on three more times. A boy would appear, claim her for a dance, bore her, request another, and then disappear. There was one last dance before 'supper', and Eli was one step away from banging her head against the wall.

"How are you going?" George asked her pleasantly, stepping forwards with a kind smile.

"Thank _God_!" she exclaimed, realising that _he_ was going to be her partner. He chuckled.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he replied, his eyes glimmering teasingly.

"Sorry, it's just that you're going to be the first guy I'm dancing with tonight that actually _has_ a personality," she sighed.

"Hmm. I should keep you around, you're _far_ more flattering than Emilia," he commented, taking up her hands as the dance began. "And don't worry. I've been keeping an eye on you, and whilst the boys you've been dancing with have no personality, at least they haven't been trying to feel you up," he added. "The amount of times I've had to rescue Emilia from cretins…" he murmured, shaking his head slightly.

"She seems to fit in here," Eli commented, glancing over to her friend, who was dancing with Christian, the boy she had met before.

"Oh, of course she does," George replied, with the slightest hint of jealously. Or, was it bitterness? "She's beautiful, clever, wealthy, and she comes from a very good family, she has good manners, and she's been raised to make some rich trust-fund baby very happy," he added miserably.

"But she's not like that," Eli pointed out.

"I know," George sighed. "She only plays the game. The problem is that she can slip in and out of it a little too easily," he explained.

"Why are you two living together again?" Eli asked curiously.

"It's a bit of a long story," George replied, with a small sigh.

"I'm curious."

"Well, she's stayed with me a few times before," he began. "Mostly when her parents were away on holidays or for work, I've always been happy to look after her, even if she _is_ a wardrobe pilferer," he continued, with a tiny smile. "Almost four months ago now, her parents were in a car crash, as you know, and her mother died, and her father use of his legs," he explained. Eli nodded. "So for two months she was with me. Her father had to do physiotherapy, and… I thought she needed some time to heal. But she just went on as if nothing had happened. It's as if her mother never existed. Everyone's been worried about her. Bella and Jonathan came down to see if she was okay, and we all agreed that it's best that for a little while longer she lives with me," he continued.

"I couldn't imagine how hard it must be for her," Eli murmured, glancing back to Emilia, who was laughing and chatting away with Christian as if nothing was wrong at all.

"Normally I wouldn't tell you this, I'd let her talk about it," he informed her. "But I'm worried that she's _never_ going to talk about it. I've spoken to a few people, doctors mainly, and they say that this is common enough, mostly in young children; it's like… and ultimate denial. She's not denying that her mother is dead; she's denying that it has any effect on her. That her mother was ever a part of her life," he explained.

"_Why_?" Eli questioned softly, growing quite concerned.

"Because it's too hard. She and her mother were very close – this is the only way Emilia thinks she can deal with it," he answered. "I want you to keep an eye out for her. She doesn't know that anyone's concerned, but… just make sure she's okay, alright? I can't be there for her every minute of every day," he requested quietly.

"But you'd like to, huh?" Eli teased, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief. He gave a small, breathy chuckle.

"I've told you. Keep your cute little nose out of _that_ subject," he instructed sternly, with the slightest hints of humour flashing in his eyes.

"Oh, so you admit that there's a subject?"

"That's not what I said."

"I think it is! And I think that there's a '_subject_' on her side, too."

"Eli, even if there _is_ a subject, which there isn't, I'd suggest that you don't get yourself involved," he advised.

"Don't worry, I won't," she assured him. "For now," she added, halting his relief as the dance ended. "Thanks for that George!" she said cheekily, before disappearing into the crowd.

George chuckled, shaking his head as he watched her go.

"You danced really well, Eli," Charlotte assured her friend during supper, as they pushed heavily decorated food around their plates. The youths were all seated at one long dining table, away from the gaze of the adults, where they could laugh and chat like normal human beings.

"You're a natural, even George said so," Emilia pointed out, sipping her non-alcoholic Rosé elegantly.

"How much longer do I have to _do_ this though?" she questioned miserably.

"Just the after-supper set, you don't have to do the last, you can only dance those if you've been presented," she replied.

"I think I'm just going to disappear for a while so I don't have to dance at _all_," she decided.

"Listen, dance the next set, and then go out to the garden. It's reasonably warm tonight, and it's very pretty," Charlotte suggested.

"But that's another _six_ dances," she sighed miserably. "And Francie told me that one of them has to be with _Creepy Colin_," she added, glancing at the guy over the piles of food heaped onto the long table. He was talking to Darcy at a hundred miles an hour, but Darcy was staring across the table at Eli instead. She turned away when she noted his gaze.

"Listen; take advantage of only having to dance two sets while you can, because when you've been presented, you have to dance _every_ one," Emilia advised. "And go ask Darcy. He's been staring at you all night, and he's only danced once," she added.

"Who lowered themselves that far to dance with the prick?" she questioned.

"Me, of course," Emilia replied, stifling laughter. "Our families know each other pretty well. I even stayed the summer at Pemberley a few years ago, that's one of the Darcy's estates," she explained.

"You know him? As in, _know_ him?" Eli exclaimed. "I thought you two were just acquaintances!"

"He's friends with George. We've known each other for _years_," she informed her. "He's difficult to get to know. We don't talk all that much, but we hang out sometimes," she added with a slight shrug.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

"Why do you care?" Emilia asked teasingly. Eli turned slightly pink.

"I _don't_. He's a prick," she replied.

"Then it doesn't matter," Emilia reasoned, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "And it also doesn't matter that he's been staring at you the whole night," she added quietly.

"No he hasn't."

"Oh yes he has. He asked me _all_ about you when we were dancing," she informed her.

"What did you tell him?" Eli frowned.

"Just the usual. Your likes, your dislikes, nothing ground-breaking," she answered, spearing a piece of gnocchi with her fork and raising it to her perfectly painted mouth. "Whether or not you had a boyfriend…" she trailed off teasingly.

"He did _not_ ask you if I had a boyfriend."

"I never said that he asked. I just told him that you didn't," she replied.

"I don't want to be set up with him! I hate the guy!" Eli exclaimed.

"Give him a chance, Eli," Emilia advised. "If he asks to dance with you, just say yes. He's nice," she added.

"So are slugs," Eli muttered in response, turning her gaze back to Darcy at the opposite end of the table. He averted his eyes when he noticed her gaze. She frowned slightly.

Maybe he _had_ been staring at her…

~ * ~

Eli danced the first waltz in the second set with Colin (shudder), and then the next two with boys she had never met, but her mother had thrown into her line of vision. At the brief interval between the second half of the set, she fully intended on leaving the whole bloody party.

"Come on, let's just get a drink," Charlotte whispered to her, when Eli had come forth, frustrated at the whole world, it seemed.

"This is probably one of the worst nights of my life," she muttered miserably.

"Stop being emo," Charlotte advised.

"My tears fall down like razorblades… My life is an empty box of cereal… My soul a broken light bulb in the lamp of the world," she sighed sarcastically, fighting back laughter. They giggled into their glasses by the refreshment table at the melodrama.

"Elizabeth," a voice announced suddenly. Eli turned, coming face to face with none other than Darcy.

"I – yes?"

"Are you free for the next dance?" he questioned quickly, staring at a point just above her shoulder.

"Uhh… yeah…" she replied slowly.

"Good. I'll come get you in a minute," he said, before disappearing.

"W – what just happened?" Eli stammered breathlessly to Charlotte as he drifted into the crowd.

"He's a good dancer, and _really_ hot. You'll be fine," Charlotte assured her.

"I _won't_ be fine, how the hell can I be fine when I'm dancing with a guy that I've promised to despise for the rest of my life?" she exclaimed in horror, before letting out a tiny giggle at her second burst of melodrama for the night.

"Listen, just get it over with, you've only got three dances left, and you can relax for the last set. Remember, you're not out yet, as far as the adults go, you don't even exist," Charlotte replied.

"I wish it were the same for everyone else though," she murmured. "Okay. Fine. I'll dance with him. But I _won't_ enjoy myself," she swore. Charlotte gave her a tiny Mona-Lisa grin.

"No one's asking you to, hun," she replied, patting her arm comfortingly. Eli sighed.

She wasn't afraid of spending the next ten minutes with a boring guy.

She was afraid that his touch might have just a maddening effect on her as it had in the music room earlier.

True to his word, just before the dance, Darcy appeared, taking her arm in silence, and leading her to the floor. It was a slow, but pretty waltz, the lighting low and tinted blue, couples standing closely together in the most intimate dance of the night. She reluctantly allowed him to place his hand on the small of her back, taking the other in his as she placed a hand on his chest. She raised her eyes nervously to meet his, peering up at him behind fine coal lashes.

"This song is nice," she said quietly, as they started to slowly move. She felt slightly dizzy, being so close to him, his warm hand resting on her spine, his scent flooding her senses.

"Yes," he murmured simply. She cast her eyes down to her feet to avoid looking at him. His gaze made her feel… funny. Slightly warm, slightly tingly, her heart racing, her body practically trembling, and she had no idea _why_. She had never felt _anything_ like it before.

Unwilling to admit it, Eli had little to no experience with the opposite sex. Oh, she had plenty of male friends, but that's all they were. Friends. She'd never even been truly attracted to anyone. Sure, she had found boys good looking, but she'd never _felt_ anything for them, she'd never felt the way that Darcy was making her feel before.

"It's your turn to say something," she said, when she had recalled the ability to speak.

"What did you want me to say?"

"Anything. Talk about books, or music, or politics or religion, just _something_," she requested. He looked thoughtful for a moment.

"This piece of music is in three-four timing, making it ideal for a waltz, it has a rather slow tempo, and played in the key of E minor," he stated factually. "It's mostly a stringed piece, three violins, one cello, and a piano," he continued.

"By music I didn't mean a list of features," she replied with a frown. "You could comment on something. The room, the people, the horrible colour of Clare's dress, _anything_, just give me… an opinion, something," she requested.

"The room is nice. The architecture is pretty enough, there are lots of people here, and orange is my least favourite colour," he replied slowly. "Listen, do we have to do this pathetic attempt at small talk? Why can't we just dance? Do you _always_ have to have some sort of conversation going?" he questioned with a frown.

"Oh, no, not always," she replied with slight coolness. "No, most of the time I prefer to just sit back and glare at people from across the room, not talking to anyone, not even dancing, just being a pain in everyone else's rear end," she snapped.

"Is the sarcasm an Australian thing, or is that just you?" he questioned pointedly.

"Ever heard of 'racism'?"

"Ever heard of 'silence'?"

"Let's talk about something else," she decided, after sending him a fierce glare. "So you don't like small talk. Whatever," she snapped.

"No, I don't. If I'm going to talk, I'd rather that it were something meaningful," he stated coolly.

"God, how did you even _fit_ in this room with that ego of yours?" she snapped.

"So you're turning sixteen in three weeks," he said, changing the topic.

"Indeed."

"Excited?"

"Not particularly. I can't do anything that I couldn't do at age fifteen in this country," she replied.

"You could have sex," he reasoned randomly, looking thoughtful. She felt her jaw drop. "There isn't much else though. You have to be seventeen to get your licence," he added.

"Yeah. Because I've _totally_ been sitting in waiting to lose my virginity," she snapped sarcastically.

"I wasn't suggesting that you do. I was just pointing out that you could," he replied, with a slight shrug.

"In Australia I could have gotten my learners licence," she murmured suddenly.

"You miss it, don't you," he stated suddenly. She nodded.

"Of course I do. It's my home," she sighed.

"England is your home now, though," he pointed out. She shook her head.

"You don't get it. Imagine if your parents suddenly announced to you that you have to change countries all of a sudden, leaving behind your friends, your home, _everything_, to come and live in a place where you don't know anyone, and hardly anyone gives you a chance," she responded. "How would you feel if your Dad came home one day and said 'Oh, hello son, I think we're going to go live in Australia'?" she questioned.

"That wouldn't happen to me," he replied quietly.

"Oh yeah? How can you be sure about that?" she asked pointedly. "_I _didn't think we'd ever more to England, and we did. Anything can happen," she informed him.

"My parents are both dead," he answered, staring at a point just above her left shoulder without a hint of emotion.

Eli felt like someone had just punched her in the gut.

"Oh… dammit, I – Darcy, I didn't know," she stammered, her voice filled with shame. "I'm sorry. I – I can't believe that I just – I'm _really_ sorry," she apologised nervously.

"It's fine. Like you said, you didn't know," he replied, his face bereft of expression.

"I – I guess that I don't know anything about you after all," she murmured.

"No. You don't," he stated simply. She frowned slightly, her irritation overcoming her shame and pity. He was _still_ an annoying prick. "But surely you just have to get used to England," he said, changing the topic once more. She shrugged.

"It's allowed me to meet some new people," she pointed out, glancing over at Emilia and George, who were dancing together at the other end of the dance floor.

"Some of them better than others," he commented, his tone filled with sudden anger.

"Well, I can name a few people I would rather not have met," she admitted, drawing up a list in her head. Clare, Headmistress du Bourg, Colin Collins, Darcy, all of them would be at the top of that list.

"I hope you mean Gershom Wickham," he murmured darkly, tightening his hold in her slightly.

"You seem to be pretty keen to keep him away from me," Eli pointed out. His eyes flashed darkly.

"There's a reason for that," he practically barked.

"Are you going to tell me what that reason is?" she questioned.

"No."

"So you expect me to blindly follow your instructions?" she asked coolly.

"For you own safety, it would be within your best interest to do so," he snapped.

"And I'm sure that this reason you refuse to tell me, but expect me to accept is a very good one," she said sarcastically.

"It is."

"And this wouldn't be because Gershom isn't a member of this glorified RSL and isn't as rich as some of the people in this room, is it?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"The fact that he's of a lower class in society has nothing to do with my opinion of him. It's the fact that he's a lower class of human _life_ that I have an issue with," he snapped. Eli gave a small chuckle, and turned her head away. "What?"

"We're so different, you and I," she said, meeting his eyes. "I'd love to see you try and survive a _week_ where I come from with that attitude. Then you might be able to cut other human beings a little slack," she snapped.

"You seem to be so focused on being treated as an equal by everyone in this society that you're forgetting that maybe not everyone _is_ equal," he said darkly. "Gershom is the type of guy you should steer clear from. And it's not like he's going to be going anywhere near you anyway, just avoid him at school, and you'll be fine," he snapped.

"I don't need you to look after me Darcy."

"You're giving me no evidence to the contrary, Elizabeth."

"You're holding me too tightly. It hurts," she murmured after a moment's silence. He loosened his grip on her.

"Sorry. I keep forgetting," was all he said.

"Keep on forgetting what?" she questioned, just as the dance ended. He gave her one final glance, bowed his head briefly, and turned away. Eli watched him go in shock.

"Ah, Miss Bennett. There you are," a commanding voice came from behind. Eli turned, it was Headmistress du Bourg.

"Uh – hi," she murmured, glancing over her shoulder, trying to find Darcy once more. _What_ did he keep forgetting?

"That's hardly the proper way to greet your Headmistress," she snapped. "Now, I think you've danced enough for the night, considering that you're still not yet out. But I noted that you had some very eligible partners for the night, I'll be sure to invite them to your debut. They would all make excellent suitors," she said promptly, peering down at her with her keen eyes. She was dressed in a probably hugely expensive evening gown; two long dark feathers perched at the back of her head, curling over obnoxiously. "That dress. Where did you get it?" she questioned.

"Uh – I'm not sure. Francie bought it for me when I was looking at a bookstore. She said it would suit me," she answered nervously.

"It does. Your mother did well," she commented. "It's modest, but not plain. As I instructed. Yes, I think it suits very well," she said. "But I shall need to be present when you purchase your debut gown. And you will require at least three more dresses before your birthday, High Tea is a very important ritual in a young woman's life," she added.

"I've got a lot of school work that I should be keeping up with, Headmistress," Eli replied with slight coolness.

"Oh, I'm quite certain you shall keep up with it well enough. And the monthly social, that's the week after your debut, you will need to attend that, too, and show your talents, that will throw you in the way of more young men," she started to rave.

"I'd rather not."

"You don't have any say in this, Miss Bennett," the Headmistress declared in retort. "Now, I must find your mother and discuss events and possible suitors. You may be excused," she said, turning away. Eli bristled with irritation, and stormed out of the room.

She was furious. Her life was no longer under her own control! How had everything changed so suddenly?

She rushed through the long, dimly lit hallway outside of the ballroom, trying to find a way out of the building. Spying a pretty sort of garden, she wrenched open a set of French doors, throwing herself out into the cold night.

She shivered as she stepped onto the short stone balcony, overlooking a beautiful garden, bathed in indigo light. She stepped forwards, feeling tears spill from her eyes. She took a deep breath, and wrapped her arms around her torso for warmth, wishing that she had thought of grabbing her coat.

She would leave. She would pack her bags, use what was in her debit account to buy a plane ticket back to Sydney, and stay with her Aunt or Nat or Regan, they wouldn't mind, and she could get a job, go to University, and start her life all over again. She would be free.

"You'll freeze to death out here," she heard a now familiar voice mutter. She didn't bother turning her head to turn to Darcy; he must have been outside when she came, because she hadn't heard the door open. She was too past caring, however. She no longer knew if her trembling was due to the cold, or her sobs. She felt him wrap his jacket around her shoulders, and stroke her arm softly in an act of comfort.

"You're so confusing," she found herself whispering quietly. "I just don't get you. It's like… you're bipolar or something, or schizophrenic. I see so many different sides of you that I just – don't know what to think," she admitted softly, turning her head slightly to meet his eyes.

"You're crying."

"I'm unhappy," she replied simply, with a tiny shrug. She sighed, and turned her gaze up to the luminous silver moon hanging above her. "Even the moon and stars are different here. How is that fair? How can that _possibly_ be fair?" she whispered desperately.

"I – I can't change the stars for you," Darcy said, sounding almost… apologetic. She gave a small, teary chuckle, and wiped her eyes.

"Yeah, but I bet you've tried," she murmured, shaking her head slightly.

"Listen, I don't want you to try and work me out right now. I'm not myself," he replied suddenly.

"Then who _are_ you?" she questioned incredulously. He shrugged, and followed her gaze up to the sky.

"Please, Elizabeth. Not now," he requested softly. "There are some things going on in my life… just pretend that you don't have to know _everything_ for a while," he urged her quietly.

"If I don't work you out now, then I won't get another chance," she said simply, turning back to meet his eyes. He frowned for a moment, before realisation struck.

"Whatever you're thinking of doing, _don't_," he urged her sharply.

"I'm not suicidal, Darcy. I might be indulgent, but not _that_ much," she informed him with a slight edge.

"Are you going back to Australia?" he questioned. She nodded. "When?"

"I – I guess tonight. I'll pack when I get home, and leave when everyone else is asleep," she said decidedly.

"Do you have money? A place to stay?" he asked. She nodded.

"I have some savings, and money my parents gave me," she replied. "I can live with friends for a while. Or maybe my Aunt," she added, with a slight shrug.

"Won't your parents be worried?" he questioned with concern. She gave a bitter laugh.

"Francie only cares about money. Dorr doesn't care about anything," she informed him.

"What about your friends? Your sisters?"

"Lyla and Kate wouldn't give a shit, and Jay would understand. She's so obsessed with making everyone happy that she'd indulge me even if I tried to top myself," she said, smiling softly at the thought of her sister. Darcy however, was frowning at her words. "And I only have three friends in England, and they'll understand why I'm doing this too," she added.

"Seems like you've got this all planned," he commented. She nodded.

"Yeah, I… I've never really been that happy with my family," she replied, unsure of why she found Darcy so easy to talk to. She still hated him, right?

"Not many people are," he sighed. She met his eyes.

"Did you want to come, or something?" she asked. She had no idea why she was asking however, it wasn't really an offer, she just… was curious.

"To Australia?" he questioned, and she nodded. He looked thoughtful. "Yes… but I can't. I have a little sister, I need to look after her," he explained.

"You know, it _is_ possible to raise a young girl in Australia. We have food and everything there," she pointed out with slight flippancy.

"She's very young. It'd be too frightening for her, she wouldn't understand," he murmured, looking out into the gardens with a faraway expression.

"You should go one day. It's a beautiful world out there," she sighed.

"Are you still going to go?"

"What, like you not coming is going to stop me?" she questioned, glancing back at him, one eyebrow raised.

"I just don't think you could do it on your own," he explained. She scowled.

"I've been doing things on my own for a long time. I've gotten good at it," she snapped coolly.

"Listen, don't go yet. Wait until the end of this term, I don't want to have to watch Clare get the lead in the musical because no one else was brave enough to try for the part," he urged her.

"Right, so you want to suspend my misery for _your_ advantage?" she snapped back at him.

"You're fifteen, Elizabeth. You're too young to understand the consequences of your actions," he said briskly. Eli scowled in response. "Wait for a while. Finish high school. Give England a chance," he advised.

"_Yes_, I'm fifteen, but I'm not an idiot, Darcy," she snapped.

"You're acting like one. You're running away because life isn't sunshine and roses for you right now," he countered, growing angered.

"Why stay here when I have a _choice_? Why should I let others push me around when it's _my_ life?" she questioned with agitation. "My leaving won't affect anyone! My parents will go on being emotionless, my sisters will continue being brats, Jay will just pretend that everything's fine and dandy – there's _nothing_ for me here!" she cried.

"_Yet_."

Her dark eyes met his, flashing with anger.

"Forget it. Just – forget it, Darcy," she snapped, lowering her eyes. "_Go_! Just – take your coat and just go! _Go_!" she cried, throwing his jacket back at him. "Everything you say is just selfish _crap_! Just _leave_!" she ordered him angrily. He frowned as he evaluated her one last time, before turning away, and leaving her alone in the garden.

She wiped her eyes, and hid back another bitter laugh.

"If you keep pushing me, Darcy, I'm going to fall," she muttered, staring after the place where he had been. She sighed, took in a deep breath, and turned back towards the club.

~ * ~

He waited until she had turned her head to place down the bouquet by her bag. The bell rang just in time, and after returning his water bottle and taking his directions to soothe her voice after such a tough workout, he slipped out of the classroom in haste. He didn't want her, or anyone else, for that matter, to see his slightly flushed face and take note of his sweaty hands, he just thanked God that he had enough control over his thoughts as he held her so closely to his chest not to… let the evidence of his… feelings for her show…

Her pile of flowers made him angered. How _dare_ anyone else send gifts to _his_ Elizabeth? She wasn't some doll that could be shared around – her affections were a precious thing, belonging to only those who were worthy.

He was proud of her. She had sung far better than he had imagined she could, and he knew that she would only get better. Her talent was awe-inspiring, her passion for her music at astronomical levels. She needed a trainer who knew what buttons to push, however, in order for her to succeed.

"_If only pride will let her return to me, her teacher_…" he hummed softly, lines from _The Phantom of the Opera_ driving their way through his thoughts. Was he really the Phantom to her Christine?

_Well, she's sort of like Christine, she has amazing talent, she's bruised from the loss of something precious to her, and all she needs is proper guidance to be incredible_…

The thought made him smile slightly. She would be a wonderful Christine in the musical. She just had to get through the first audition, and over the spring break he could speak to a few people, to make sure that they gave her the appropriate part.

He knew he shouldn't be getting too attached. Yes, she had a decent enough family, not quite up to his standards, she was pretty, talented, educated, but was that enough for him? Her standing was below him, she would be a degradation to his name.

But she had such lovely dark eyes…

"But I _want_ to come!" Georgie wailed miserably, throwing her fists against her big brother's chest in anger. "_Please_? Pretty, pretty please?" she requested hopefully, staring up at her brother with her big brown eyes, tugging on a chocolate strand of hair with one of her small, childlike hands.

"Georgie, you _know_ that you can't," he reminded her patiently, lowering himself to his knees, till he was eye level with his little sister. He brushed her hair from her face, and wiped the tears from her sparkling eyes.

"Not fair," she murmured unhappily. Darcy chuckled.

"I know, love. You're not quite old enough. Trust me, I'd _much_ rather stay at home with you, but you know what Auntie is like," he said softly.

"Can I go next year?" she requested hopefully. Darcy gave another small laugh.

"No, you'd still be a little young. But don't worry, it's not that wonderful," he assured her, pressing his forehead against hers. "Alright, I have to go now. Are you going to be good for Nanny?" he questioned sternly. She nodded. "Good girl. I'll see you soon," he promised, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek, before straightening up, brushing down his suit, and slipping out of his eleven year old sister's bedroom in their Aunt's grand estate.

He glanced at one of the many hallway mirrors for a moment, checking that he looked presentable. He was admittedly rather nervous, he had little experience meeting Elizabeth out of school, and he wanted to look nice. He wanted her to find him attractive, to _want_ to be with him.

"_There _you are! I was calling for you," Aunt Catherine said sternly, as he started downstairs.

"Sorry, Aunt. I had to say goodbye to Georgie," he apologised, noting her cold expression.

"Very well. Mortimer has the car waiting, we need to be off," she declared, clicking her perfectly manicured fingers as one of her many attendants pulled open the front door for her. She stepped out with self-importance, Darcy following in silence. He said very little on the journey to the venue, allowing his Aunt to drone on about girl after girl, telling him which ones had the best connections, the best family, the most money, advising him to hurry up and make his selection for a possible wife.

"Aunt, I'm eighteen," Darcy reminded her finally, after he could take no more of her ravings.

"You need to marry, or your entire fortune will go to waste," she countered stiffly. "You can't claim full inheritance of your father's estates and all of his funds until you have a wife. You and Georgiana cannot survive on your trust funds alone," she sniffed.

"We could, Aunt. Very easily," he replied.

"I shall not have it. No, you must find a wife. I was very disappointed when you broke up with Anne, but I have a few ideas on new possibilities – I am currently waiting to see how my latest charge responds to the social world," she stated. "I do believe that in a few months, she will be a very fine wife for you. All the potential is there. She's a diamond in the rough," she continued proudly.

Darcy sighed, but let the topic go. He had his suspicions of who is Aunt wanted to set him up with, but he had told her time and time again that he had no interest in Clare Bingley.

In truth, the only girl that he had _ever_ even slightly cared about was Elizabeth. But she wasn't the girl for him, he thought sadly. He knew that he needed to distance himself in order to remain in control of his senses.

"Darce! Looking quite spiffy there," Char greeted him cheerfully as they arrived, the ballroom filling up quickly with guests.

"Please, choose your adjectives wisely, Char," he advised, glancing around the room.

"You haven't seen Jay, have you?" he questioned quietly. Darcy raised an eyebrow.

"No, not yet. Are you still hung up on her?" he asked curiously.

"She's an angel Darcy, an _angel_!" he sighed dreamily.

"Uhh… how long has Charmont been a thirteen year old girl?" a voice questioned from behind. Darcy turned, taking in the couple before him.

"George! I _told_ you not to call me that!" Char insisted with irritation. George chuckled, his eyes twinkling.

"Quiet, you sissy. And Jay will be here soon, if you can sit still long enough to wait," he advised.

"Emilia, you look lovely," Darcy greeted politely, glancing over his old playmate. She did indeed look stunning, but then again, she always did.

"Thanks Darcy, ditto to you," she smiled brilliantly in response. "Oh, and I'm getting a dance with you too, by the way," she added, her tone slightly more serious, but her eyes twinkled brightly all the same.

"Emilia…" Darcy groaned sternly. "You know that I don't dance. Full stop. Period," he reminded her. She rolled her pale eyes.

"Shutup Darce, you can dance with me. Oh, and you can dance with Eli too, I know you want to," she added.

"Don't you _dare_ play your matchmaking game with Elizabeth and I," he warned her.

"_See_? No one likes your so called 'talent'," George informed Emilia, who scoffed.

"Every time he and Eli are in the same room together, she's always sneaking glances at him, and he's sending her an expression which plainly says 'come hither, oh object of my desires'," she pointed out. "It'd be ridiculous for you two not to get together one day, you're completely perfect for each other," she reasoned.

"Hey! Then we can be brothers if I marry Jay!" Char said excitedly.

"I don't need anyone running my life, Emilia. Whatever happens between Elizabeth and I, not that I'm suggesting anything _will_ happen, because it most certainly _won't_, will be between Elizabeth and I only," he informed her in a clipped, slightly defensive tone.

"Hmm… for now," Emilia mused teasingly, scanning the room with her eyes. "And speak of the devil… wow, she looks beautiful," she exclaimed, obviously spotting her target. Darcy turned, and felt his heart tighten in his chest.

She did indeed look beautiful, stunning even. She wore a pretty dress of soft ivory, with a black ribbon around her small waist. She looked rather sweet in it, and there was something different about her hair… it looked very pretty, to have that front bit covering her forehead, he understood them to be called bangs… but whatever they were, that made her look simply gorgeous.

"She always looks beautiful," he found himself murmuring. He flushed instantly, knowing that Emilia, George and Char had all heard. "So I find her attractive. I find Emilia attractive, but that doesn't mean I like her," he reasoned.

"Humph. I'm insulted," Emilia replied teasingly.

"Do you find _me_ attractive?" George questioned warily.

"Depends. Do you own a skirt?"

"Do I _look_ like I own one?"

"Shall you say it, or shall I?" he questioned, turning to Emilia.

"Leave it. It's just too easy," she sighed, shaking her head at her companion, who rolled his dark eyes.

"You young whippersnappers have no respect. Now Darcy, go woo the fair maiden," he directed.

"No. I'm getting a drink," he snapped in response, turning away with a slight sigh. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he get her out of his head?

He watched her in silence for the first half of the night. He observed her dancing with all sorts of partners, sensing her discomfort and boredom, wishing that it could be _him_ held in her arms, indulging in her touch, her scent, her voice. Oh, her beautiful voice…

_I want to kiss you_!

He tried to push his thoughts from his mind as he spun her slowly later that evening, when it was finally his turn to dance with her. She was unsteady, unsure of herself. Did she not know how to dance?

Her eyes twinkled brightly. He decided then and there that ivory suited her remarkably well, she just looked so precious. He would have preferred her wearing something shorter, more low-cut, revealing more of her beautiful body to him, but she was stunning, regardless.

She was an angel.

He almost gave a bitter laugh at that thought as they parted. He was just as bad as Charmont, simpering over Jasmine Bennett.

But… why was she crying? Why had she fled the ballroom, tears streaming down her precious face, as if searching for freedom? Release? Was she so unhappy?

They spoke. They argued. He left after she threw his coat at him fiercely.

"_If you keep pushing me, Darcy, I'm going to fall_…"

He wanted to turn, to register his astonishment. Was she going to fall for him?

He should have been worried at that prospect. But strangely, concern was the very _last_ emotion that he felt coursing through his veins.

**A/N: Next chapter, a look at George and Emilia away from the eyes of others, and a very deep conversation with Eli and Llewellyn. Please review! ^__^**


	11. Of Desire and Discussion

"_But I don't wanna pray for what is not right,  
And I don't wanna beg for what is not mine,  
I don't wanna run the road between dreams and worthy things,  
Oh I could charge, man I could really try  
But I don't wanna be the brave one in a senseless fight  
No, I just wanna be here tonight_."  
-Damien Rice, 'Sand'

"Tired?" George questioned his charge as she leant a weary head to his shoulder. He felt her nod in silence, and hid back a chuckle. "Well, it's your own fault you know, dancing so much," he pointed out. He felt, rather than saw her roll her eyes.

"Actually, _you_ bought me the killer dress, so really, it's _your_ fault," she debated. He let the chuckle slip from his lips.

"It's a shame Bella and Jon couldn't come," he commented, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at her.

She was beautiful.

"Well, they had little Harry to look after, I guess," she sighed tiredly. "But it was nice tonight anyway. I had fun," she yawned, rubbing her eyes wearily. "I think everyone enjoyed themselves. Did you see how close Darcy and Eli were when they danced together? If the room wasn't so dark, tongues would be wagging," she laughed.

"I think they like each other. They just might not have realised it yet," he said softly. "Char hardly left Jay's side all night, too. What do you think of them?" he questioned.

"Oh, they're perfect for each other. They're both disgustingly pleasant," she murmured. "What did you think of their Dad, though?" she asked curiously.

"I think… that perhaps Jay and Eli are diamonds in the rough," he said slowly. "I had a brief conversation with the father, Dorian. It's no wonder that Eli's so unhappy. From what I could tell, he's not capable of loving anyone or anything. Eli gets the most attention out of all of his children, but that's not saying much. All he cares about are her marks," he commented saqdly.

"I got that vibe too. Poor Eli…" she sighed. "And her mother was really mean to her. Did you see how she fawned over Jay and the twins, but hardly even spoke to Eli? I mean, I don't get it, she's so smart and funny and talented, not to mention pretty, so why is she treated like the bad apple?" she questioned incredulously.

"Some families are just weird, Em," George sighed. "I don't think they're doing the right thing by their daughters. All her mother cares about is money, and her father doesn't care about anything. It's a wonder they had two such great girls," he commented.

"It just doesn't seem fair that Eli has to go through all that crap to be who she is," Emilia sighed.

"Listen, great people in life will suffer horrible things. It's what makes them great, their ability to overcome the horrible things they've been through," he explained quietly. "Eli is strong. She's going to get through the crap her family puts her through," he assured her.

"Hmm. That doesn't make it any more right though," she murmured, allowing her eyes to flutter to a close.

George pulled his car into the resident's parking lot. Smiling softly at the image behind him, he nudged Emilia lightly. She awoke with a start, and stumbled out of the vehicle, her shoes dangling from her hands. She leant against him in the elevator on their way up, her breathing slow and weary.

"Come on sleepy head," he sighed, practically picking her up, taking her to her bedroom.

"Mm…" she murmured tiredly into his chest. "Sleep now."

"No, sleep in your _bed_."

"No, sleep _now_," she insisted. He pulled open her bedroom door, and she stumbled in, falling to the bed, eagle-sprawled atop it.

"You can't sleep in a ridiculously expensive Chanel dress," he reminded her.

"You're right. You can wear it to bed if you want," she teased, fighting yawns.

He chuckled, and stepped over to the dresser, pulling out a nightgown from one of the draws, and tossing it to her. She sat up unsteadily, and started to slide her arms out of the dress. George turned away, staring out the window intently.

"George?" she murmured, and he turned around. She was wearing her nightgown, the dress hung over the back of a chair. She was running her fingers through her curls.

"Hmm?" he responded, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Thanks for trying to make me forget tonight," she said, with a tiny smile.

"You know that I don't want you to forget anything about your mother," he reminded her, pulling her lithe form into her arms, smoothing her curls back affectionately.

"You went to such an effort to make today important to me. And I'm really grateful for that," she murmured. "You've been really fantastic about this whole thing. Thank you," she practically whispered.

"Anytime," he replied, pressing a tiny kiss to the top of her head. "Now you need to get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning, love," he said finally, releasing her from his hold, before she slipped beneath the sheets of her bed, her eyes fluttering to a close. He stood up, and walked to the door, glancing over his shoulder for a moment.

He couldn't help but sigh. He felt disgusting.

Because he didn't want to go back to his bed. And he knew that was wrong.

"Night, Emi," he said, flicking the switch, and closing the bedroom door behind him.

~ * ~

"_And all the roads you have to walk are winding,_

_And all the lights that lead the way are blinding,_

_And there are many things that I would like to say to you,_

_But I don't know how_"

- Ryan Adams (Oasis Cover), 'Wonderwall'

"Mister Bennett?" a nervous voice came from the doorway. "It is time for lunch, sir," Helena informed him, giving a small curtsey.

"Thank you, Helena, but we won't be eating lunch right now," Dorr replied, peering up from his book. "Elizabeth still has to memorise the timeline for the Boer War in South Africa. Save something for her," he instructed, before glancing over to his daughter.

Eli hid back a groan of disappointment. She had been studying all day, and was famished.

"Yes, sir," Helena muttered, before disappearing from the room. Eli turned miserably back to her notebooks.

"Once you've finished the timeline, you can revise your periodic table. You can't forget all of your elements just because you're taking a lazy two years. Then you can have lunch," he informed her, turning back to his book. Eli shifted, gave a small sigh, and picked up her highlighter once more.

"How's work?" she asked suddenly, growing distracted.

"Fine."

"How many books did you put out this month?"

"More than enough. Now study," he snapped in response. Eli gave another short sigh, and reluctantly obeyed.

Three hours later, she was allowed to leave his library for a toilet break and food, before she returned to revise last year's calculus.

"Miss Elisabet! You have been studying for _hours_!" Helena exclaimed as Eli walked into the kitchen.

"Don't I know it. Do we have anything to eat, Helena?" she questioned hopefully.

"I saved you some lunch, Miss Elisabet. But you had better eat it fast, Francine will be home soon, and she does not like pizza," she replied, taking a plate from the fridge, and placing it in the microwave.

"You're an angel!" Eli thanked her. "How long does it take to buy a few dresses? Honestly, they've been out for _hours_," she commented, glancing out the kitchen window, where she could catch the slightest glimpse of the street outside, covered with frost and ice that not even the soft rain was washing away.

"How is your studying going?" Helena asked curiously, taking the plate from the microwave, and passing it over to her charge, who was seated at the breakfast bench.

"I see no point in studying for a subject I'm not even taking. But it keeps Dorr happy," she sighed despondently, taking a bite of pizza. "I could be in London today with George and Emilia. But _no_, I have to _study_," she spat miserably.

"But study will make you clever, Miss Elisabet," Helena pointed out. Eli gave another small sigh.

"I don't feel like reading anymore. If Dorr comes out, tell him I'm practising my music assignment," she said, standing, and, taking her plate with her, headed upstairs.

She placed her pizza atop the piano, before crossing to one of the many large bookshelves in her room. Her eyes flicked over titles in her sheet music collection, before stopping on _The Phantom of the Opera_. Her copy was worn and much loved, with her scribbles and annotations all over it. She pulled it from the shelf, and sighed.

She simply loved _The Phantom of the Opera_. It was her favourite book, musical, movie, and music. Whilst not normally a romantic, she had always appreciated and loved the intensity of emotions between Christine and the Phantom. She wished that she could have her _own_ Angel of Music, her _own_ Phantom, someone to take her away from her home into his warm, waiting arms. She wouldn't even mind if his face was horribly disfigured, if he had a love for music, then all was forgotten. She wanted more than anything else to get the part of Christine in the musical – she wanted to spend her whole life on stage, singing those songs, living that story!

She settled down before the piano, flicking through sheets. She stopped at the aria, _Think of Me_, and started to play.

As she went through the songbook, she couldn't help but think of Darcy. They had been working fiercely at _Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again_ over the past week, arguing over pronunciation, projection, breathing, pitch, but barely a word had passed between them that wasn't music related. He had mockingly called himself her 'Angel of Music'.

She snorted in laughter right in the middle of _Prima Donna_. He was _far_ from her angel of music. Admittedly, he did have amazing musical ability. He was a genius. She couldn't name an instrument that he _didn't_ play, however, it was his violin playing that sent shivers down her spine, his magical hands could reduce her to a state of…

Well, she didn't really _know_, to be honest. _Was_ it attraction? He was very handsome, almost painfully so, and when he looked at her… Lord, he made her feel so strange. But she had never _been_ attracted to anyone before, so she didn't have anything to compare it to.

She thought it ironic that she claimed to know so much of humans, of people, and yet she knew nothing of… _that_ stuff. Reading science textbooks detailing the chemical process of human reproduction told her _nothing_ of life's mysteries. Was she _supposed_ to feel tingly all over? Was she _supposed_ to feel rather warm, and quite uncomfortable, but in a very pleasant way? She wished that she could talk to someone about it, but… who could she talk to?

Not Francie, she would be _no_ help. Nor Lyla and Kate, because whilst they were probably _very_ experienced, she had _no_ desire to share her insecurities with them. Dorr? No, that would just be a joke. Not Jay, because Jay was probably as naïve as she in such matters. Helena? Possibly, but… something just didn't feel right about it. She didn't want to talk to Emilia, or Charlotte, or George, because they felt like her equals, and she didn't want to have to gain knowledge of such matters from an equal. She wanted to talk to someone that she trusted, that she liked, that was wise and intelligent…

Such thoughts were still spinning around her head the next day at school. She had just finished another session with Darcy in the small music rooms, and couldn't help but realise that her face was almost bright red. But _how_ could it be attraction if she didn't even like him?

"You look confused," Llewellyn commented to her as she slid her books into her bag. She had been a little dazed at sitting so close to Darcy for the last ten minutes of the lesson. She hated him… and yet she felt so very, very strange.

"That's probably because I am," she laughed uneasily, glancing at the seat that the object of her thoughts had just been inhabiting a moment ago.

"I hope it's not music related," he commented, but she only shook her head, her cheeks slightly pink. She _couldn't_ talk about it to Llewellyn.

"It's not," she assured him.

"It wouldn't be the fact that Colin Collins has been stalking you for three weeks now, would it?" he questioned teasingly, sitting on the edge of the desk.

"Eurgh… no, but he's really starting to freak me out," Eli replied unhappily. "He's always following me, trying to walk me home, carry my books, that sort of stuff…" she trailed off, shuddering at the unpleasant thought.

"He's just a boy, Eli," he said, his eyes twinkling teasingly. "I remember when I was about his age, constantly chasing pretty girls. It didn't matter if they didn't like me, I was too immature to notice," he laughed. Eli chewed her lip.

"Yeah, well… he's just scary," she murmured.

"Seriously Eli, are you alright? You've been acting a little… oddly, recently," he questioned with concern. She tried not to meet his eyes, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks.

"I – I honestly have no idea," she admitted. "But it isn't really something you can… help me with," she added. He raised an eyebrow.

"I was fifteen not _that_ long ago, you know," he reminded her. She gave a small sigh.

"I'm just a little bit confused about someone," she said slowly. "But it's fine. I'm planning on ignoring them," she added, trying to sound cheerful.

"It's not _Colin_, is it?" he questioned with surprise. She shook her head violently.

"No. Don't worry about it. I – it's not an issue," she murmured, tying the straps on her bag.

"Eli," Llewellyn said sternly. "Listen, I know I'm your teacher, but you can talk to me about anything. I don't have anywhere I need to be, and I'm pretty sure you've got a free now, right?" he questioned, and she nodded. "I promise, not a word of whatever you say will leave this classroom. I might even be able to help," he added.

Eli sighed, and looked at the ground. _Could_ she talk with him? She felt comfortable around Llewellyn, but… it was pretty personal, she wouldn't know what to say.

"It's just – everything is really confusing right now," she murmured finally, glancing up at him nervously. "There's just… stuff going on. And I'm miserable and confused," she stated, hoping that she could leave it at that.

"What kind of 'stuff'?" he questioned. Eli sighed. Clearly she _couldn't_ leave it at that. She sat down on the edge of the desk, staring at her hands.

"Well, I guess part of it is England. It's just so… hard. To be away from home," she sighed.

"Don't you like it here?" he questioned with a slight frown.

"I didn't want to leave Australia," she explained. "I – I had a whole life back there. And suddenly I'm in this strange place, and everything is different, and there are these people that are making me so confused…" she trailed off, wincing at how pathetic she sounded.

"What's hard for you here?" he questioned. She swallowed slowly.

"Well, I – I think it's the differences," she managed to reply. "I mean, Dorr, my dad, he was always really antisocial, but now he's just… he hardly ever leaves his study unless he's at work, and when he _is_ home, all he's doing is making me study. Ever since we came to England both of my parents have been so… weird," she explained. "Francie is so obsessed with social standing and money, Dorr is so quiet, and now I have to go to some sort of tea party on the weekend, not to mention the Valentines Day ball _last_ weekend, and I just feel like I'm some Barbie doll being dressed up and shoved in a Dream House that I'm supposed to love, but I hate it!" she continued, growing slightly emotional.

"And this is making you confused?" Llewellyn questioned softly in response. She shook her head, but did not meet his eyes.

"Th – there's more," she murmured.

"Can you tell me?" he requested gently. She chewed on her lip softly.

"Well… th – there's this… guy," she began slowly. "And I hate him. I really do. He's so… _infuriating_, always being rude and completely up himself, I just want to punch him in the face sometimes," she sighed. "But other times he's… well, he can be almost… bearable," she explained carefully. "When we're alone. He'll be reasonably polite, and I don't hate him then. He'll say something arrogant and ruin it pretty quickly, but… I _know_ that I don't like him, and yet…" she trailed off quietly.

"Have you spoken to him about it?" Llewellyn asked curiously. She shook her head.

"I try _not_ to talk to him," she explained.

"So you _know_ that you hate him, but sometimes he isn't that bad," he stated slowly. "That doesn't sound _too_ confusing. Maybe he's shy?" he offered.

"That's not – that's not what's confusing me," she stammered, her face blushing bright red. "He just… makes me feel… funny," she said quietly, staring very intently at the ground.

"What kind of funny?" Llewellyn questioned. "As in… you want to laugh? You want to cry?" he asked carefully. She shrugged.

"I don't _know_. I've never felt like this before. It's really… weird," she admitted. "I mean, I _know_ that I hate him, and I have every reason to. He said rude things about me, he didn't stop someone from publicly humiliating me, even though he had the chance and knew that I was upset, and he's always glaring at me," she stated. "So maybe what I feel is… a special kind of hatred," she offered unsurely.

"That could be it," Llewellyn replied. "Or it could be something else," he said thoughtfully. "Do you find him attractive?" he questioned.

"I – I don't know," she stammered nervously. "I mean, he's really good looking, I guess, but I've never been attracted to someone before," she informed him slowly.

"Do you know about sex, Eli?" he questioned her, after waiting to see if she added anything else. Her face burned bright red.

"Uh – yeah," she squeaked. "I read about it in science," she added awkwardly, meeting his eyes for a moment. He was looking at her intently with concern.

"There's a difference between knowing about reproduction and knowing about sex, Eli," he informed her. "You never went to any lectures about it? Had a PE teacher talk to you?" he questioned curiously.

"Dorr said it was a waste of my time, so I went to the library instead," she replied, with a slight frown.

"There's more to it than just the chemical side, Eli," he said patiently. "Are you sure your parents haven't spoken to you about this?" he asked. She shook her head violently.

"My parents and I don't really… talk about that kind of stuff," she murmured awkwardly.

"Well, it sounds to me like you don't like this boy, but you're attracted to him all the same, and you're confused because you're experiencing new feelings," he stated informatively.

"But I _can't_ be attracted to him – he's a prick!" she exclaimed with agitation. Llewellyn chuckled.

"The mind and the body are two very different things, Eli," he informed her. "You might not like him, but you still find him attractive. We aren't always attracted to the people we know are kind and interesting," he explained to her, with a small smile.

"Maybe I'm not attracted to him at all. Maybe it _is_ just really intense hatred. You know, like that song from _Wicked_," she said hopefully. Llewellyn gave another small chuckle.

"Well… how do you feel when you're around him?" he questioned softly. She shrugged.

"Well… weird. Tingly all over. Kind of warm," she answered, feeling more comfortable by the minute. He did have a very soothing quality about him. "My heart beats faster too, and I can't seem to… find words. And when I do they sound odd," she added.

"You said 'tingly'?"

"Well, I don't know another word for it," she shrugged.

"And what about when you're close to him? How do you feel then?" he questioned. She gave another shrug.

"I don't know… extra tingly?" she offered. "My stomach goes weird, too. Kind of… half of it is all twisty and stuff, and the other half is… just weird," she explained, wringing her slender hands together.

"It sounds to me like you _are_ attracted to him, Eli," he commented. "Is that really so bad? Do you think he likes you?" he questioned.

"It _is_ bad. I wish it would just _stop!_" Eli said miserably. "I know he hates me, and even if he didn't, I wouldn't want to go out with him or anything, I really _do_ hate him. He makes me _so_ angry," she answered.

"Do you think he knows how you feel?" he questioned curiously. She shrugged.

"I'm pretty sure he doesn't know I'm… 'attracted' to him," she replied. "He knows I hate him though. We hate each other pretty openly," she explained.

"But if he _were_ to find out how he makes you feel, what do you think he would do?" he questioned intently. She chewed her lip, and shrugged.

"I don't know. Nothing, I guess. He's not interested me, and I'm not interested in him," she answered simply. Llewellyn raised an eyebrow.

"Eli, you need to be careful. You're very young, and very new to concepts of sex and attraction. And whilst the way you feel is very normal and natural, it could cause problems. If he knew that you were unable to stop your physical attraction to him, he could easily take advantage of you," he stated calmly and clearly.

Her eyes widened slightly at the thought. What _would_ Darcy do if he knew? What if he _did_ try to… would she be able to stop herself? She didn't trust herself around him, not now that she knew that she really _was_ attracted to him.

"I – I don't think that he would," she managed to get out.

"Eli, you're young, and very innocent. I'm afraid that you could be in danger if you're not careful," he replied. She cast her gaze to the floor once more.

"But – but why would he? _How_ could he? I don't – I just –" she stammered, finding herself rather confused. Llewellyn sighed.

"Because teenage boys – I'm assuming he's a teenager –" she nodded, "– can be very selfish sometimes. You just need to be careful," he instructed. She gave another nod. "Are you _sure_ that you don't like him?" he questioned.

"I'm definite. Sometimes he seems okay, but most of the time he's horrible," she answered. "And besides, everyone says that he has a girlfriend, anyway," she added, just recalling that fact.

"Eli, that doesn't mean that you shouldn't be careful," he said, in a slightly stern, but mostly concerned voice. She slowly nodded. "I don't want to frighten you, Eli. You're an extraordinarily intelligent girl, but you're also very young, and quite inexperienced. You've always been in a very sheltered environment, and I don't want you to be thrown into a situation that you won't be able to get out of because of your inexperience," he explained comfortingly.

"So… what should I do?" she questioned softly, meeting his eyes. He gave her a reassuring smile.

"Well, maybe you should try to get to know this boy a little better. He might not be as bad as you seem," he suggested. She rolled her eyes.

"Trust me, he is," she assured him. He chuckled.

"Well, then I would advise that you try to keep away from him. Does the way you feel frighten you?" he questioned, and she nodded. "Well, just try and make sure that you're never in a dangerous situation with him. Maybe you can limit how much time you spend around him? Or keep reminding yourself that you don't like him," he suggested.

"I guess I can try…" she murmured. He smiled.

"I'm sure you'll be fine, Eli. You're clever, just innocent. I'd also advise that you either talk to someone you know very well about sex, or find a _better_ book than your science textbook," he added. She chuckled, and nodded.

"Thank you, sir," she said quietly.

"I'm here to help, Eli," he replied, patting her kindly on the shoulder. "You'll be fine. Just try and take my advice, okay? And stop thinking of boys, and focus on your music. The auditions are coming up soon, so I'd advise that you practise, don't waste your time," he suggested, and she nodded, before sliding off the table. She gave him a small grin.

"I feel better. I didn't really… have anyone to talk to about this," she explained briefly. "Thank you, sir. I'll try and listen to what you said," she added, before bidding him goodbye, and slipping out of the classroom. She smiled softly as she headed up to the student lounge to study and relax.

She was concerned about her reactions to Darcy. But somehow, discussing them with Llewellyn had taken a huge weight off her chest. She felt like she might be able to move on, now that she knew how she felt. She dropped her bag on the floor, and sat down in front of the fireplace, pulling her books and pencil case from her bag.

She froze, a familiar feeling running up her spine. She looked up.

Darcy's eyes immediately returned to his textbook before him, acting as if he had never been staring at her at all.

Eli chewed on her lip nervously, before slowly turning back to her books.

It was going to be a _long_ study period.

**A/N: Alright, so I couldn't remember if I updated last night or not, so I'm updating now, just in case I didn't. Sorry that there's hardly and Darcy in this one :S I thought this could be a good time to cover some things that a few people have mentioned in reviews, so people can get a better understanding. **

**It's set in the year 2009, not regency. However, the society is specifically tailored to be clinging on desperately to the regency time period, which is why the dance cards appeared. The character's ages are as follows:**

**Eli – 15 turning 16 (I gave her the same birthday as me! So we're exactly the same age :D)**

**Darcy – 18 turning 19 later in the year**

**Emilia – 17 turning 18 in the middle of the year**

**Charlotte – 18 turning 19**

**Jay – 18 turning 19**

**Bingley Triplets – 19**

**Lyla and Katie – 17**

**Francie – 44**

**Dorr – 60**

**Llewellyn – 29**

**George – 29**

**Headmistress du Bourg – 510 going on 511 (lolz…)**

**Antoinette (to appear later) - 20**

**Richard (to appear later) - 20**

**A few people have commented that Darcy's POVs seem a little bit hentai. Well, Darcy is a teenage boy, filled with hormones, and has feelings for a pretty girl about his age. He's also clever and damaged goods. I write him as I write him, and I see a teenage Darcy as such. I'm glad that you all seem to like him, because I like him too :D Not as much as I liked Whit from Sweet Lolita, but he's growing on me :D**

**Howl Llewellyn is based off three sources. One is Remus Lupin, the major influence of his character. Later on you will see his non-magical modern-day equivalent of the were-wolf curse, and his relationship struggles with Toni, my version of Nymphadora Tonks. He is also based off Howl from Dianne W. Jones' 'Howl's Moving Castle' and the Hayao Miyazaki movie made from the book, with Howl's natural protective instinct. Finally he is based off a very good guy that I once knew, but I won't go into details about. And yes, 'Howl' is both a nod to Howl's Moving Castle and the werewolf thing in Harry Potter… get it? Wolves, howling? Yeah… lame, I know…**

**Eli is a little bit over the top emotionally. She is unstable, as is stated earlier, and pointed out later on in the story. Her mind works differently, and she has a very strong creative side of her brain, but she is extremely emotionally underdeveloped due to the way she has been raised. You have to realise, that she's gone through her life being treated poorly due to her label, she's been raised by cold parents, she has expectations heaped on her due to her 'gift' (it's interesting to hear that there are several readers who also went through a gifted and talented education or have also had that label slapped on them), and the combination of her emotional instability, bitterness over her unfeeling parents, being taken away from her home to a place she doesn't know, being forced to attend a school that she hates and treated like a doll (not to mention some scarring experiences she went through which are related later on), as well as the usual teenage angst, makes her reaction very justified. Several of the things I have mention I've endured myself, and I haven't handled it as well as Eli. I'm far more bitchy than she is. **

**So I think those were the main concerns. Oh, and my grammar is a little off. Sorry, most of this story was originally written in first person, but I went through and did a lot of editing. My apologies :D**

**As always, please review! ^__^**


	12. High Tea and Revelations

"_Trouble is her only friend, _

_And he's back again_

_Makes her body older than it really is,_

_And she says it's high time she went away,_

_No ones got much to say, in this town_

_Trouble is the only way is down, down, down_"

-James Blunt, 'Carry You Home'

"Don't speak. At _all_," Francie hissed in her daughter's ear, clutching her arm tightly as they were led through the lobby of the Rosings Park Society Club to attend her first 'high tea'. Eli tugged at her uncomfortable pale blue frock, scowling as she caught a reflection of her head in one of the many mirrors adorning the walls. She wore a ridiculously large white Alice bow perched atop her curls.

"I feel like a really horrible cross between Sweet Lolita and Ayumi Hamasaki," she muttered miserably.

"I _said_ don't speak," Francie snapped in response.

"I _have_ to speak, or else I'll look rude," Eli retorted pointedly.

"Fine, but don't you _dare_ embarrass me," she demanded coolly, before leading her to one of the many tables littering the ornate dining room.

Eli gazed around in wonder. It was different to the ballroom; it was about as large, with equally high ceilings and gorgeous Victorian moulding, the parquet floor coated with round tables of varying sizes, all of which were covered with a pristine white tablecloth. A pianist was in the centre of the room, playing a Bach piece without passion. Francie led her over to one of the larger tables, which was already almost filled with people, most of whom she had never met before.

"Ah, Mrs Bennett, Miss Elizabeth, you've arrived," the commanding voice of Headmistress du Bourg sounded. "Sit down ladies, tea shall be served soon," she directed them, as an attendant pulled out the last two remaining chairs. Francie quickly sat down next to Headmistress du Bourg, leaving Eli with only one more place to sit.

Between Creepy Colin, and Darcy. She reluctantly sat down, staring at her hands, and cursing her body for betraying her so whenever she was near Darcy.

"Now, Francine, Miss Elizabeth, I would like to introduce a few… close confidants to you," Headmistress du Bourg announced. Eli glanced around the table. It was filled with teenage boys and their mothers. She was the only young girl there. "First of all, I understand that you know my nephew, William, and one of Rosing Parks' more… diligent prefects, Colin," she stated self-importantly, but did not indicate which boy was her nephew. Eli glanced around. She couldn't detect any similar features…

"Unfortunately Mrs Collins could not attend, due to a previous engagement," Headmistress du Bourg informed them.

"Miss Elizabeth! It _is_ a pleasure to see you again!" Colin gushed excitedly, growing giddy in her presence. Eli ever so slightly edged away from him.

"And this is Mrs Thompson-Ruperts and her delightful son Christian," the Headmistress continued, pointing to the pleasant-faced, chestnut hair, brown eyed boy she had danced with at the Valentine's Darcy ball, and an older woman, with perfectly dyed platinum blonde hair, and a smug grin perched up on her lips.

"Elizabeth, it's very good to see you once more," Christian said politely, flashing her a nice smile. She smiled in return, but it was out of necessity only. She had found him a terrible bore at the Valentine's Darcy ball.

"Next is Mrs Aylmer-Higgins, and her son Fraser," she continued, pointing to the next mother-son combination. Fraser looked to be at least five years older than her, with handsomely cut facial features, intense dark eyes, and black hair cut in a roguish, devil-may-care manner. He was quite attractive; she had to admit, with the slightest hints of possibly Egyptian heritage. His mother was one of the oldest ladies at the table, but she appeared to be desperately trying to cling onto her youth with too much lipstick and silicon.

"It's an honour, Elizabeth," Fraser said kindly, bowing his head slightly. He had a nice voice, she decided.

"Oh, and this is Mrs Pelton, her son Cole recently came back from New York, you know," she added, moving onto the next duo. Cole had pale blonde hair spiked up with far too much gel; blue eyes that she was certain were only contacts, and a very big grin on his face. His mother looked meek and rather submissive beside her exuberant son.

"Elizabeth… I've heard _so_ much about you," he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Eli wanted to vomit.

"And Mrs Hortence beside him, with her son Victor," she went on, Eli's eyes shifting over. Victor too was rather attractive, with reasonably lengthy light brown hair and blue-green eyes, but his eyes seemed far too occupied with Francie's chest to actually give Eli a greeting. Of this she was grateful. He looked somewhat intimidating, as did his impossibly tall, dark haired mother.

"Elizabeth, you look _such_ a dear," she crooned, evaluating Eli with sharp eyes. Eli raised an eyebrow in response, not really feeling up to being examined.

"And finally Mrs Merie and her son Rory," she ended. Rory was a tall, broad boy of about twenty years, with skin the colour of creamy coffee, and eyes as dark as the night. His hair was trimmed close to his head, and he dressed rather sharply. His mother beside him was some sort of goddess. She looked stunning, and quite young, considering her son's age.

"Oh, it's a _pleasure_ to meet you all," Francie gushed. Eli glanced around the table once more. No one had been introduced as William, so did that mean that _Darcy_ was Headmistress du Bourg's nephew? That his real name was William?

She glanced at him. He was staring at her intently. She met his eyes, trying to live up to the challenge. He looked her up and down slowly, taking in her pale blue frock that was just a little low cut. An evil, horrible, _hated_ part of her actually _wanted_ him to look at her as if he didn't find her repulsive. She turned away quickly.

She wasn't an idiot. She knew what was going on from the moment she sat down. She just had to find a way out…

"So Elizabeth, you're having your debut in two weeks, are you not?" one of the women, Mrs Aylmer-Higgins, questioned her intently.

"Yes, I am," she replied, not really knowing what to say. She felt like a shop window display.

"That must be very exciting for you," another woman, who went by the name of Thompson-Ruperts, commented.

"I'm positively trembling in excitement," she muttered beneath her breath.

"We've heard some very positive things about you, you know, Elizabeth," the beautiful Mrs Merie informed her. "Tales of your talent and intelligence seem to be flying as far as London. I didn't know that beauty was included in that package, too," she added, looking her up and down appreciatively. Eli felt as if she were a hunk of meet on display in the butcher's window.

"You come from the Sydney region in Australia, do you now?" Mrs Thompson-Ruperts questioned.

"Yes."

"Real estate in those parts is quite expensive, you know," Mrs Hortance announced in a rather commanding voice.

"Particularly coastal properties," Thompson-Ruperts added.

"We haven't sold our properties in Australia. They're tidy little investments, you know," Francie informed them all.

Eli frowned slightly. She didn't understand – weren't all of the people in Rosings Park supposed to hate new money? Did they really fit in there? Were the Bennett's really as well-off as some of the people she was sitting with?

She glanced down at her dress.

It was Gucci.

Her handbag was Dolce and Gabbana.

Her shoes were Prada.

She was wearing a diamond Cartier watch.

She raised her head slowly, and glanced around the table, noting as the sons and mothers seemed to be eating her with their eyes.

So… she was rich. She wondered when _that_ had happened.

"I understand that you're quite the little scholar, Elizabeth," Aylmer-Higgins declared.

"Oh, Elizabeth is very clever. Did you know that she's already received her high school graduation equivalent? She finished last year, received scholarships left, right and centre for every University in the country," Francie boasted proudly. Eli felt her cheeks sting slightly. She hazarded a glance towards Darcy. He was regarding her with a shocked expression, before he returned to his usual expressionless face.

"_Really_? My, that's extraordinary!" exclaimed Mrs Hortence. "Why is she retaking her exams?" she questioned curiously.

"Her father felt it best. University for my little darling?" she crooned. Eli wanted to throw up with the fake affection her mother was bestowing upon her. "No, I feel she's too little. Another year, perhaps two, depending on how my husband feels about the matter, and then she can attend Oxford. That is, if she's not settled down by then," she added, a twinkle in her blue eyes.

All the mother's looked at Eli eagerly. She shifted in annoyance as the teas arrived. She wished nothing more than to simply disappear. She accepted her cup of English Breakfast in silence, staring at her plate. She didn't know how to feel.

On one side, she could tell all the women to stuff it, and go home.

On the other, she could just try and sit back and ignore them, taking amusement from their actions, whilst she basked in the tingles running over her body from being in such a close space to Darcy. Indeed, it was a funny feeling, but she did not find it unpleasant.

She glanced back at the women, who continued to stare at her. One of the servers took her bag from her lap, and hung the strap over the side of her chair. The beautifully delicate lace spelling out D&G over the front increased their frenzy. She wanted to laugh, but instead gave a small, secretive smile.

"I didn't know that you already graduated," Darcy murmured as the delicate nibbles were brought out on towering trays.

"You never asked," she replied stiffly, refusing to meet his eyes. Yes, she found him attractive, but she still loathed him. She slowly removed her delicate lace gloves. She had thought them ridiculous when she put them on, but a tiny part of her found it… fun. Ridiculous, unpleasant, boring, and morally _wrong_, but the idiots around her were so materialistic that she could act as if it were all a game and fit right in.

"And have you found a gown for Elizabeth's coming out yet, Francine?" Headmistress du Bourg questioned Francie suddenly, as the attendant stirred sugar into her tea.

"I was looking at something in Chanel that I thought would suit, but I haven't decided yet," she replied. "I'm also quite fond of a beautiful dress from Armani for her – but Chanel really is more her style. Elegant and sophisticated, whilst retaining her youth," she said, as if reading from an issue of Vogue that was glued behind her eyelids.

"And such a pretty girl she is," Aylmer-Higgins commented. "Fraser, don't you think so? Don't you think that Elizabeth is quite pretty?" she questioned, turning to her son.

"Oh, I dare say that Elizabeth is more than just 'quite pretty'," he replied with a small smile. His dark eyes drove into her with force, but not of the same intensity as Darcy's…

She wanted to hit herself. Why was she comparing Fraser Aylmer-Higgins to Darcy? Darcy was a _pig_, she reminded herself.

"And has she made many friends at her new school, Mrs Bennett?" Mrs Merie questioned.

"Oh yes, she and Emilia Woodhouse are quite close," she boasted proudly in response. Eyes widened.

"Woodhouse? Such a tragedy to their family – but such a _lovely_ family it is," Mrs Hortence commented. "Is Emilia still seeing George Knightley? I understand that they've been together for a very long time," she added, turning to Headmistress du Bourg.

"Oh, I think she's quite spoken for," she answered. Eli couldn't help but be surprised. Emilia and George? Were they _really_ a couple? She had _liked_ the idea, but was that what society thought about the two? Simply because they were very close?

"Such a shame," sniffed Thompson-Ruperts, sipping her tea rather delicately. Eli took a mouthful of hers in silence, hoping for no more questions.

Unfortunately, her wish was not granted. Over the next hour, between mouthfuls of exquisite little cakes and pastries, she was questioned, probed and poked from the women at the table, all trying to put a bid in on her, before they all raved about their 'wonderful' sons.

"Shall we convene to the sitting rooms, ladies?" Headmistress du Bourg announced, after the tea was all gone, and the conversation starting to lull. Attendants quickly pulled all the chairs out for the ladies, and Eli stuffed her gloves into her purse. She wondered if she could just sneak off without having to endure more of the painful process…

"Put your gloves back on," Francie hissed in her daughter's ear. "You're doing well. They all love you. I say go for Darcy – he's the richest. But Christian is _rather_ handsome, and I heard that Fraser owns his own oil rig, and he's only twenty-two," she directed quietly.

"What's that? You want to give me a _really_ big cookie for going through this hell?" Eli snapped back. Francie scowled at her.

"Just shutup," she demanded finally. They continued to walk to the sitting rooms in silence.

Upon arrival, Eli took a seat where she could see out the window into the frosty gardens, and was immediately surrounded by boys. The mother's were all looking on with greedy smiles.

"You're rather musical, are you not, Elizabeth?" Mrs Hortence questioned as she seated herself.

"Oh yes, she plays the piano and guitar _very_ well, and her singing is simply incredible," Francine boasted.

"Then you'll play us a song, Elizabeth!" Cole announced gleefully.

"Uh, do I have to?" she replied, wincing slightly at the prospect. He gave a breathy chuckle.

"Mrs Bennett, you simply _must_ make Elizabeth perform for us, she's _so_ talented," Colin declared, turning to Francie eagerly.

"Maybe she's a little shy," Christian suggested, a smile lighting up his pleasant face.

"William, you will accompany her," Headmistress du Bourg demanded. Darcy nodded, and stood, stepping over to the beautiful grand piano.

"Elizabeth, go sing," Francie ordered her, with the slightest hint of edge to her tone. Eli reluctantly rose to her feet, and walked over to Darcy.

"So, Maestro, pick a tune," Eli sighed miserably, but there was still a small amount of teasing in her voice. He met her eyes with his usual intensity, and she quietened, her heart beginning to race once more.

"Memory?" he suggested. She nodded.

"Which version?" she questioned.

"Paige."

"Cool," she responded finally. Turning away from him as he settled before the piano, and placed his fingers on the keys, starting to play.

"_Memory, turn your face to the moonlight  
Let your memory lead you  
Open up, enter in  
If you find there the meaning of what happiness is  
Then a new life will begin_…"

She focused intently on her breathing as she sung. She wanted to blow Darcy's socks off, to make him regret his cold words and rude behaviour in those practise rooms at school. She wanted to make him realise that she _had_ improved, and whilst a lot of it was down to him, a big part of it was her own determination to be better in spite of him. She felt like she… _needed_ to prove that to him.

"_Memory, all alone in the moonlight,  
I can smile at the old days,  
I was beautiful then  
I remember the time I knew what happiness was,  
Let the memory live again_…"

She was actually impressed with how she sung. She had always been fond of the Elaine Paige version of the classic Andrew Lloyd Webber song, and for once she felt like she was doing it justice. With her new found breathing and projection skills, she was able to startle even herself with her improvement.

"_Burnt out ends of smokey days,  
The stale cold smell of morning,  
The streetlamp dies, another night is over,  
Another day is dawning_…"

She softly placed her hand on her diaphragm, measuring out each breath. She refused to meet anyone's eyes, she simply sang with as much accuracy and feeling as she could. It was _important_ to her.

"_Daylight, I must wait for the sunrise,  
I must think of a new life,  
And I mustn't give in  
When the dawn comes tonight will be a memory too,  
And a new day will begin_…"

The instrumental came with a beautiful attack of the piano, Darcy's genius coming to light… she had never imaged such beauty could be contained within the one piece of music. He had transformed it.

"_Sunlight, through the trees in the summer,  
Endless masquerading  
Like a flower as the dawn is breaking,  
The memory is fading…_"

She was thrilled that Darcy was playing that verse, the verse that was so often forgotten. She began it in a stunning soprano, allowing her voice to rise and become just as delicate as the frost on the window sill. She knew she was singing it right. She knew she was singing it well. But she only wanted to get better and better.

"_Touch me; it's so easy to leave me  
All alone with the memory  
Of my days in the sun_…"

And then she lost herself in the song, in the passion, letting her voice, her emotions, all of her feelings go free. She just… _sang_.

Technique because a subconscious act of habit and training as she lost herself within the passion and emotion of the song.

"_If you touch me you'll understand what happiness is  
Look, a new day has begun_…"

She finished the lyrics softly, pleadingly. She met Darcy's eye for a split second as the words '_touch me_' flowed from her lips, but he seemed to be in some sort of… daze. She had seen this before. The music completely consumed him, it enveloped him; he was lost when an instrument was placed in his hands.

His hands seemed to simply fade from the keys as the song finished. She hardly heard the applause and praises from their makeshift audience. Darcy was meeting her eyes with _such_ intensity that it… well; suffice to say that the tingles had turned almost into violent tremors. She was a bundle of raw nerves, and she didn't understand _why_, but she just desperately wanted him to touch her.

Their look was broken as she was pulled back to the group of selfish people.

"My God, Elizabeth, that was incredible!" Christian praised, almost in disbelief. "You – you have the most _amazing_ voice!" he cried.

"I must say, your performance has certainly improved a great deal," Headmistress du Bourg commented, evaluating Eli keenly.

Eli wanted to snort. So what if the woman had seen some DVD with a performance from last year. She had no desire to talk about music to anyone but Darcy at that moment.

"I've been teaching her to sing," Darcy murmured quietly as he sat. Eli met his eyes for a moment, but tore them away. No, she was still so raw from their performance. She couldn't risk looking at him just yet.

"Is that true?" Francie exclaimed. Eli nodded.

"We've been working on a piece from _The Phantom of the Opera_ for school," she replied, not sure why she felt slightly… angered at that. She was so confused. Her attraction seemed to grow for Darcy every moment she was with him, but when he made arrogant little statements about how he was teaching her to 'sing', as if she couldn't even hold a tune before he had taken her under his wing, only increased her dislike of him.

She wanted to leave. She wanted to get away from him as fast as she could.

"William is a very skilled musician. He has the voice of an angel," Headmistress du Bourg stated proudly. Eli was slightly surprised – he sang? But she supposed it only natural, after all, he _was_ a very good singing instructor, and he _did_ have such a lovely voice…

"Aunt, please," he requested, sounding like he wished for nothing more than silence. Was he so affected as Eli? She doubted it. He hated her.

"Oh hush Darcy, you shall sing for us. Perhaps Elizabeth shall accompany you this time," she countered.

"Aunt, please don't insult me. I can sing and play an instrument at the same time," he practically snapped. Eli's eyes went slightly wide as she turned to him. He was staring with determination at his feet.

She couldn't believe him… did he seriously think that she couldn't sing and play the piano at the same time? How dare he! Why did he have to act like a complete and total jerk _all_ the time?

"And you're implying that I can't?" Eli questioned him pointedly, not caring if she sounded rude to those assembled. He raised his head to meet her eyes, seeing them flash dangerously with anger.

"I've never seen you do so. I simply assumed that you couldn't."

"With logic like that, I wonder why you aren't running the country," she replied coolly. Everyone started to chuckle, but Darcy only met her eyes with his intense gaze.

"You've never played and sung at once. It was a natural assumption."

"I've never seen you smile. Would it be a natural assumption for me to assume that you're incapable of such an act?" she questioned lightly. _Oh great Eli_, she thought, _you KNOW you're being bitchy when you start to use grown up language_.

"I suppose it would be. Forgive me, then," he countered. Eli's tongue caught in her throat. Her arching grin faded slightly as she gave him a small nod.

"I forgive you," she replied quietly, not really aware of anything else happening around her.

She was beginning to see the danger in giving Darcy too much attention. Perhaps, she thought, she should have listened to Llewellyn a little more intently.

She did not meet Darcy's at all from then on. She stared at a point above his shoulder when he bid her goodbye as all assembled broke up to go home. She gave her goodbyes to all, and then practically dragged Francie outside into the cold winter's day.

"You did well in there," Francie commented, giving Eli one of her rare compliments. "You should sing that song for the musical auditions that Jay told me about. They're coming up soon, right?" she questioned. Eli nodded in silence. "Well, sing that one. It was good," she advised. Her daughter said nothing as she slid into the front seat of the car, before finally speaking up as Francie climbed into the driver's side.

"Why didn't Jay come?" she asked curiously, that question having been bugging her for the past three hours.

"Jay is practically going out with Charmont Bingley, she didn't need to come," Francie replied shortly. Eli sighed.

"And what about Lyla and Kate?" she asked pointedly.

"Oh, they're at no loss for boyfriends. _You_ needed the most assistance," she answered, starting the engine. "Besides, Catherine du Bourg seems to like you. She thinks you have potential, or some crap like that," she retorted. Eli turned her gaze out the window.

"Just… let's go home," she murmured. All she wanted was a nice long bath.

Somehow she felt impossibly dirty.

~ * ~

**22****nd**** of February 2009**

**4:15pm**

Dear Journal,

Fact No. 1: Darcy is a complete and total _ass_.

Fact No. 2: Darcy is a musical god.

Fact No. 3: Darcy is impossibly beautiful.

Fact No. 4: Darcy makes me feel good, but in a bad way.

Fact No. 5: Francie wants me to marry Darcy because he's rich.

Fact No. 6: Francie doesn't really care if I marry Darcy.

Fact No. 7: Francie just wants me to marry someone really well off.

Fact No. 8: I hate Darcy.

Fact No. 9: Darcy hates me.

Fact No 10: I am _really_ confused.

Eli sighed as she closed her journal. How could such a horrible, rude person make her feel so…

She couldn't even find a word for it. She somehow felt like his look, his touch, his scent, his voice, they were all she lived for. She was so desperately confused! How _could_ she be attracted to him?

She needed some sort of release. She quickly turned to her piano and sat down, her hands practically shaking. She didn't even take note of what was before her, simply played.

Eventually, her eyes started to focus on the lyrics, and she actually listened to what she was playing. She chewed her lip. _Past the point of no return_ from _The Phantom_. If there was any song that could teach her about the feeling of being attracted to someone, then it was most certainly the piece that she began to play.

She sung the male part tentatively. It made her nervous, simply imagining Darcy singing those words. She swallowed awkwardly with the realisation that the song was going to be performed in the musical. If he was apparently such a good singer, he would probably get the part. Was he going to sing it with her, if she got Christine?

Her breathing caught as she played. She didn't think she'd be able to handle it if Darcy sung that song with her. She eased into the female part, hoping, _praying_ that her thoughts of Darcy would just _end_; just get out of her head.

"_In my mind I've already imagined_

_Our bodies entwining,_

_Defenceless and silent…_

_Now I am here with you, _

_No second thoughts, _

_I've decided, decided…"_

Her fingers stopped abruptly on the keys. Was that what love was like? Was that attraction? She was so confused about everything…

But she knew one thing. She couldn't risk being close to Darcy anymore. Not until she knew her own feelings.

~ * ~

"Hey cutie, what's up?"

Eli turned at such a strange greeting. She was sitting before the fireplace in the student lounge, working on her Modern History homework, ipod headphones in her ears. She took them out quickly.

"Hi. It's Gershom, isn't it?" she questioned in greeting to the boy. He flashed her a handsome grin, his blue eyes twinkling.

"I'm so flattered that you know my name," he replied cheerfully.

"Well, you already knew mine," she pointed out, as he sat down beside her. She wasn't really that interested in him. He was cute, but she _did_ have to finish her history homework.

"So how have you been? I haven't had to rescue you from Collins recently," he commented casually, leaning back on one arm to fully evaluate her form.

"Ah, kind of busy," she shrugged. "When I'm not in school, I'm studying, and when I'm not studying, I'm either practising music or being dragged from boutique to boutique by my Mother, looking for a stupid dress for my stupid birthday party," she sighed. "And my friend Charlotte has been really awesome, she's keeping Colin away for me," she added with a tiny smile. Gershom chuckled.

"Everyone's been talking about you, you know. Is it true that your mother bought you five Chanel dresses, because she couldn't decide which one you should wear to your debut?" he questioned curiously.

"Actually, I'll be wearing them all at once. I'm trying to start a trend," she said sarcastically. He laughed.

"So cute _and_ funny," he chuckled. "Why are you doing the whole 'coming out' thing? It's kind of gay," he questioned curiously.

"I have a suspicion my mother wants to marry me off before I can legally drink," she answered, turning her gaze back to her books. Gershom raised an eyebrow.

"Really? Who are the competitors?" he questioned.

"Ah, I'm not really sure. I've been to two high-teas now, and I've been 'introduced' to about twenty guys so far. They were all either boring or pricks," she answered. "I'm not interested in finding a guy. I'm just trying to work through a few issues, so I'm letting Francie boss me around for a while. It means less shouting," she explained.

"Is Darcy in the running for your hand?" he asked suddenly. Eli raised her eyes to meet his, and sent him a doubtful expression.

"No. He comes to the high-teas, but that's just because they're run by Headmistress du Bourg, and he's her nephew," she replied. "He wouldn't be interested in me – he's got a girlfriend," she added.

And _she_ wasn't interested in _him_ she decided. She'd had enough of thinking of him – she was getting very good at ignoring his presence at all times.

"Yeah, well it wouldn't be the first time that Darcy's done the jerky thing," Gershom muttered.

"What?"

"Well, I don't really know if I should say," he responded, upon realising that she had heard him speak. "He's just not what everyone thinks. I know him pretty well, and… I don't want to see you get hurt," he said quietly.

"You don't _have_ to tell me, but I'd like to know," Eli replied. She felt a burning desire to hear what Gershom had to say, perhaps it could clear her mind a little; give her some more understanding of Darcy.

"Well, we used to play together as kids," he began slowly, with a slight expression of pain. "My Dad was his Dad's business partner. We knew each other pretty well, we were friends, you see," he explained. Eli nodded in eager interest. "Well, Mr Darcy still owned the company they ran, my Dad was just his partner," he continued. "He was getting old, and didn't think he was going to live for a long time. He was in his fifties when his kids were born. So he decided to write up a contract that would leave the company to Darcy and I when we grew up to run together. It was a tradition sort of thing," he explained.

"Okay… but what does this have to do with Darcy being a jerk?" she questioned with confusion. She was noting Gershom's expressions. There was something about him that just didn't click…

"Anyway, my Dad died when I was twelve, and my Mum had never been around, so I was sort of… adopted by the Darcy family," he informed her. "Mr Darcy loved me like a second son. He started to raise me like he had raised his own kids, sort of… grooming me to one day take over the company. And Darcy got really jealous of that. He was always the apple of his parent's eyes, and he _loved_ the attention," he explained. "He really started to hate me. I mean, _loathe_ me. He hated my guts, and went out of his way to make me miserable," he continued.

"Yeah. That sounds like him," Eli muttered quietly.

"His Mum and Dad died when he was fourteen. He sort of went off the rails a bit; he had to go live with his Aunt and came to Rosings Park. He stopped caring about everything," he sighed.

"It sounds like he was just dealing with the loss of his parents," Eli pointed out. Gershom gave a small, bitter laugh.

"No. It's more serious than that," he sighed. "We both turned eighteen around October. When we hit the big One-Eight, we were supposed to start taking over the company, learning the ropes, that sort of stuff," he explained. "But Darcy tore up the contract about me getting my part in the company. He refused to let me stay with him, and he broke off all contact. He cut me out," he informed her simply.

Eli raised an eyebrow. "As in, completely?" she questioned. He nodded.

"I was supposed to get my fair share in that company, but now I get nothing. I have to live with my relatives. I was also supposed to be supported by the Darcy family until I was twenty-one, you know, school fees, University fees, all of that, but Darcy denied me that too," he informed her. "The only reason I'm even at Rosings is because Mr Darcy left me enough money to do so. I'm kind of broke," he explained, with a tiny shrug.

"Why are you telling me this?" Eli questioned suddenly. She felt uncomfortable with Gershom, but she had to admit, it _did_ sound like something Darcy could do.

"Because you're the kind of girl that Darcy would like to trap in his web. He'd only hurt you, and I don't want that to happen," he replied earnestly, placing a gentle hand on Eli's arm. She glanced down at it, unsure why she felt so insanely uncomfortable.

"Well… thanks for telling me," she murmured. "I need to go to the library to look up a few things. See you, Gershom," she said finally, packing up her books, sliding them into her bag, and disappearing out of the room.

"I told you to stay away from him."

She turned quickly, Darcy's intensely pale eyes driving into her. She struggled to find words for a second, wondering how much he had seen.

"He just came up to me," she defended herself angrily. How _dare_ he presume that he could tell her what to do? "And it's none of your business anyway. I can talk to whoever I like," she snapped.

Darcy was practically fuming. His eyes were alight with anger, his mouth twisted to a frown.

"You know what? _Fine_. I'm trying to look out for you and you just ignore me!" he snapped. "I came up here to try and help you for your musical audition – but I see no bloody point if you're going to just ignore me!" he cried. "I'm _done_ trying to help you – Gershom can do what he likes to you," he finished coldly, turning heel, and storming down the hall. Students stared in curiosity after him.

"Fuck you Darcy!" she cried angrily back at him. He stopped for a moment, but then continued his pace in silence, not even glancing back at her.

**A/N: In answer to one reviewers question, yes, I do have this story written out already. I have so far, four hundred pages on Microsoft word, and almost thirty chapters. I have the entire story mapped out as well, but since it's no longer holidays and my time is very limited, I don't want to post all the chapters at once, because then you'll be waiting for long periods of time to read them. However, I try to keep my reviewing schedule pretty regular. At the moment, I'm reviewing every second night, at anything from six PM to midnight Eastern-Australian time. **

**I'm trying to answer as many reviewers questions as possible, so please don't hesitate to ask. I also read and try to answer anonymous reviews (reviewers who are not a member of FF and just use any old username) in my author's notes. I try not to give too much of the plot away, but these are the things I can tell you now (most of these are already given ideas, but sorry if I'm ruining anything):**

**-Jay is less than angelic, as a few people already noticed. **

**-Clare doesn't turn a new leaf. She's a bitch.**

**-Darcy **_**doesn't**_** over-romanticise his 'relationship' with Eli the whole story.**

**-Dorr **_**is**_** a prick, and that will stay definite. I can't write loving Mr Bennets. **

**-A lot of reviews have wondered how someone can be forced to marry someone else. Well, legally, it's possible. **

**-Gershom **_**is**_** a sissy. **

**MAJOR EVENTS** (ones that don't spoil the plot, that is)

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN: 'Hunsford'**

**CHAPTER NINETEEN: Eli first becomes aware of the arranged marriage.**

**CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: The musical. I would suggest that you read up about **_**The Phantom of the Opera**_** by then and watch the movie, because it helps you understand.**

**Yes. Some of you may thing that the story is ruined now, but really, if you check the JAFF index, you can find out all of this anyway. None of what I have said can be construed as a plot-spoiler, I'm afraid, and I don't like to reveal big secrets until you find them out (it would have been like me revealing in the second chapter of Sweet Lolita that both Whit and Loli ended up getting shot and Jamie's hand exploded. This is like me saying 'oh yeah, Whit and Loli end up together. If you didn't get that, it being fanfiction and all :S). Now. I love you all, and I apologise for the long author's note. Please review! ^__^**


	13. Decode

"_My bones ache, my skin feels cold,_

_And I'm getting so tired, and so old…_

_The anger swells in my guts,_

_And I won't feel these slices, and cuts_,"

-Snow Patrol, 'Open Your Eyes'

Eli woke up on Saturday the 7th of March with a painful headache and a sense of misery enveloping her. So, she was sixteen, and she had absolutely no joy at the prospect of getting out of bed to face the world.

After her 'altercation' with Darcy earlier that week, their meetings had been tense and strained. He still tutored her in singing during class, they still worked together on pieces, but it was with almost no talking, and hardly any eye contact. They both refused to acknowledge the other.

"Miss Elisabet, time to rise and shine!" Helena called cheerfully, bustling into the bedroom. Eli sighed, and rolled over in bed, pulling the covers over her head, curling into a tight ball to conserve heat. "Wake up, Miss Elisabet! It is your birthday today!" Helena continued to cry.

"I'm sick, Helena," Eli lied from beneath the blankets. "Insert cough here. I can't get up. I can't go to the party tonight," she announced.

"Miss Elisabet, this is not true," Helena replied sternly. Eli sighed.

"I have absolutely no desire to go to go to the party. _Please_, for goodness sake, _don't_ make me go," she begged, pulling down the blankets, looking up at the maid with pleading eyes.

"No, Miss Elisabet, you must go to the party, everyone will want to say 'happy birthday' to you," she replied, placing her hands on her hips, surveying her charge with an intimidating expression. Eli gave an indignant snort.

"Fine. But I won't be happy about it," she promised, rolling out of bed.

"Breakfast is ready downstairs, Miss Elisabet, all of your favourites. I will draw you a bath now, and then you will come downstairs. Try not to be too long," was Helena's only response, before bustling out of Eli's bedroom.

She sighed, falling back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. So far, sixteen was looking pretty horrible.

After relaxing in the bathtub for what seemed like hours, Eli headed downstairs, drying her hair with a towel as she went.

"Morning," she greeted, stepping into the dining room where they always ate breakfast on weekends. Dorr sat at the head of the table, reading his paper, whilst Francie was attacking her grapefruit with a spoon. Lyla and Kate were texting madly, and only Jay looked up when she entered.

"Happy birthday, Eli!" she cried joyfully, leaping up from her chair, and pulling her sister into a tight hug. "Oh, you're sixteen! You're so grownup now!" she exclaimed happily, looking Eli up and down to see if she had grown overnight.

"Oh. Yeah. Happy B-Day," Lyla said, glancing up from her phone for a split second.

"Yeah. Congrats. Can you drink yet?" Katie inquired.

"Of course not," Eli replied pointedly. Katie rolled her eyes.

"Come back when you can," she snapped, turning back to her phone.

"Happy birthday, Elizabeth," Dorr said simply. "We have presents. Somewhere," he added, glancing around. "Francine, where are the presents?" he asked.

"They're upstairs. I've sent Helena to fetch them," she answered. "Eli, we're going shopping today in London for your birthday. You'll need a new wardrobe," she announced.

"Joy," she muttered sarcastically, taking a seat, before a smile crept onto her face. Helena had made chocolate-chip pancakes for her.

"Mrs Bennett, I have Miss Elisabet's gifts in the sitting room, as you requested," Helena said slowly, measuring out her words and pronunciation as she stepped into the dining room.

"Very good, Helena. We'll be there in a minute," Francie replied, taking a sip of her coffee. "Hurry up and eat. We need to leave early to be back in time for your party tonight," she ordered her daughter.

After her remarkably unexcited (sans Jay) family had showered her with gifts, Eli somehow found herself in the middle of a high-end department store with measuring tapes being poked and prodded in every single crevice of her body, with _no_ idea how she got there.

"Now how would you describe your _style_, Miss Bennett?" one of the eager attendants, who looked a little like a very frightening Fabio, questioned her as she stood on a platform in the centre of a room covered with mirrors.

"Uhhh… well, I really like some of the stuff that Agyness Deyn wears," she shrugged. "Umm, casual, I guess?" she offered meekly.

Fabio (as she had dubbed him) raised an eyebrow.

"Sweetheart, you're going to have to pick a new roll-model," he informed her flatly. She chewed her lip in thought, trying to think of a name, any name…

"Umm, Keira Knightley, I suppose?" she suggested. Fabio's eyes shone with excitement, and he clapped his hands together with glee.

"Ooh, _splendid_!" he exclaimed. "So a feminine, classical sort of look then? Oh, I'm seeing _lots_ of lace! That's perfect, you _do_ have a very Keira look about you!" he cried joyfully.

"Uh – Francie? Do I _have_ to be here?" she questioned her mother as Fabio dashed off to find pieces for her.

"Of course you do," Francie snapped, holding an evening gown up to her figure, and taking in her reflection. Eli sighed miserably.

"How are we affording all of this?" she questioned.

"Your father's new job pays a _bundle_, and my blog has been getting _so_ much advertising recently! Did you know that _Vogue_ has requested I write a column for them?" she questioned.

"Oh. I guess – that's how," she murmured.

"We're rich, Eli. We're rich, new and exciting – and it's only going to go uphill from here," she announced, a broad grin breaking over her features. "Especially when you find yourself a husband! Jay is almost there, you know, but you still need a little work," she added.

"Francie, I'm not interested in getting married," she reminded her mother, who only scoffed.

"You say that now – but marriage can be a wonderful thing, Eli," she replied, glancing through items on the racks littering the room. "Have you seen anyone that you liked yet?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Uhh, you mean guys?" she questioned. "_No_. They've all been snobby pricks – I told you, I'm not interested," she snapped, just as Fabio reappeared, two young shop assistants behind him, pulling in more racks of clothing.

"Make her beautiful. Tonight she's finding her husband," Francie announced to Fabio. His eyes lit up with excitement, and he practically squealed in response.

"_Oh, _how _wonderful_!" he exclaimed joyfully, rushing towards her with glee.

"Now I want her dripping in Chanel. She needs gowns, dresses, skirts, blouses, _everything_," Francie demanded, peering at each garment she walked past with keen eyes. Eli knew that Fabio could tell she was an important customer, so he wasted no time in picking out clothing for her daughter.

Eli stared wistfully out the boutique window onto the busy London street. She hadn't pictured her sixteenth birthday to be anything like it was turning out to be.

~ * ~

"_It is a tradition for a young woman, upon turning sixteen, to enter into this ancient right of passage. This tradition has existed in the society of Rosings Park for hundreds of years, and as we join together to celebrate the coming out of one of this years most amiable debutants, we are thrilled to be able to continue this custom. We welcome the youngest daughter of Francine and Dorian Bennett to our open arms. It is with pride that the Rosings Park Women's Society, in collaboration with the Rosings Park Society Club, accepts Elizabeth Aurélie Juliet Grey Bennett into its midst_."

'My God. Did she _have_ to say my full name?' Eli thought in horror as she listened to Headmistress du Bourg recite her speech. Her heart was racing – there was no way out of it, not now. She had to walk into the lion's den.

Taking her cue as the applause broke out in the ballroom; Eli took a deep breath, and started her descent of the staircase, coming into view of her audience as Aphex Twin's _Avril 14_ began to play. She attempted to walk as conspicuously as possible down the grand staircase, but it wasn't possible, not with the attention of over a hundred people centred on her. She was desperately hoping that she wouldn't trip, and for _once_, luck was with her as she descended the stairs, smoothing down her ivory silk gown with slightly nervous hands.

Dorr looked downright miserable as he reluctantly walked up and took his daughter's hand for the first dance of the evening. He hated being coerced into attending, let alone dancing at his own daughter's coming out ceremony. He had argued that since it was so clearly a _female_ pursuit he had no need to be there, but after much persuasion, he had come.

Eli couldn't help but let the tiniest of smile's flicker on her face as she and her father began to dance, and other couples started to join them. Dancing with her father was something that didn't involve studying or a discussion of her marks, in fact, if he could only smile in return, the whole night would have been worth it.

"How long does this dance go for?" he questioned her with irritation.

Her heart fell, and she couldn't quite hide the expression of disappointment creeping onto her face. She had hoped… but she knew that it was too good to be true. Dorr wasn't the kind, loving father that was written about in storybooks. He was just… Dorr.

"Umm, a minute or two," she answered meekly. He scowled, but nodded. She sighed quietly, and glanced around the room.

It was beautiful. It was lit up with soft candlelight, accentuating the golden gilding of the ornate moulding, endless streams of ivory silk hanging from almost every crevice, beautiful strings of crystal beads winding in and out of silver and gold ribbons, even the white feathers were lovely, and surprisingly didn't look tacky at all, particularly with the vast amount of gorgeous red roses lending their colour and scent to the room. Eli was quite in awe of the splendour of it all, each woman wore full and ornate ball gowns, each man a tuxedo, and even though it was like some sort of giant festival of the make believe, it was very beautiful.

_She_ felt beautiful. There were very few occasions in her life where she truly felt like she could be considered even pretty, but a little immodest part of her was screaming out with joy at her appearance.

Her dress was stunning. A full length Chanel silk ball gown in the same ivory shade as the hangings on the wall that clung tightly to her waist, the V shaped bodice laced with small shimmering pearls, tiny crystals and cream lace, causing it to shimmer in the warm candlelight. The cut of the dress was a little lower than she was comfortable with, a strapless M shaped front with a layered mass of sheer cream silk running over it, softly gracing across her arms, and meeting at the low back of the dress, bunching with a beautiful pearl and crystal clasp, before flowing out elegantly to form the slightest of trains.

The skirt of the dress wasn't too full, but fell so softly and so gracefully over her hips that she couldn't help but swish around to feel its smoothness over her skin and around her ankles. Her hair was in the most part flowing freely in a long mane of dark auburn curls, each strand interlaced with thin ivory and cream ribbons, beautiful shimmering peal beads and crystal hairpieces. Her makeup was beautifully done, drawing attention to her dark eyes with masses of shimmering pink pearl and coal metallic eye shadow, a few tiny little diamantes around the edge of her eye, her blush a mixture of warm autumn rouge and shimmering gold, drawing out her strong cheekbones. All in all, she felt, and looked wonderful.

After the first dance ended, George stepped up gallantly to take the next. He smiled at her brilliantly, his dark eyes twinkling with pride for her. George was the closest thing to a big brother that she had ever had, and she knew that he was happy with her.

"You look… Eli, words can't describe how beautiful you are tonight," he praised her as the music began, and he took her hands in his. She smiled brilliantly in return, her soft pink lipstick reflecting the rich lighting.

"Aw shucks Gigi, you make me feel so pretty," she said teasingly. He chuckled breathily at her commented, but only allowed his smile to grow as they moved around the room in an elegant waltz.

"So how does it feel to officially be on the market?" he questioned. Eli rolled her eyes in response to his comment.

"I'm not a toy, might I remind you, George," she said petulantly. He gave another small laugh.

"But you _are_ a little spit-fire," he replied. "How long did it take to get ready for this? It must have been hours," he commented. "Emilia's took _forever_, and she was complaining the whole way through," he added.

"Yeah, it took a while," Eli admitted, a little miserably. "Dorr was furious because he thought I should have been studying instead," she laughed. George, however, frowned slightly.

"He wanted you to study on your birthday?" he questioned. She nodded.

"Don't worry, he's just… like that," she explained simply.

"But that's ridiculous, your exams ended a few weeks ago, right?" he inquired.

"Yeah, but he's just fussy like that," she replied with a slight shrug. "I tried to point out that I topped all my classes that we had exams for, and my lowest mark was ninety-eight, but he's really old fashioned. If I'm not studying, I'm either asleep or in school," she said.

"Eli, that's… not fair to you. This is _your_ day, you can't let your Dad push you around," George advised sternly, however, he knew full well the difficulty of revolting against one's own parents.

"Are you kidding? George – I respect my Dad, but I'm not going to let him make me do something that I don't want to do," she replied firmly. George allowed a flicker of a smile to grace his lips at her strength. She _was_ a little spit-fire.

"I'm glad, love. And you look incredible tonight, you should be really happy," he said warmly. "Oh… and Emilia and I have been talking about it, we know that this isn't really your idea of a birthday celebration, despite the horrendous amount of gifts…" he began, glancing over at the long table laden with splendidly wrapped presents pilled up to towering heights, "So we were thinking of doing something special for you. Tomorrow we're going into London for a little surprise, so try to make sure that you're in a decent condition in the morning," he requested, his dark eyes twinkling.

"Oh, George, you don't need to do that!" she objected, but he silenced her with a single glance. She smiled. "But thank you. I – I'm really grateful," she sighed.

She thought back three weeks, when she had been considering leaving England without a second thought to George and Emilia. How could she? They were fast becoming such important parts of her young life – she couldn't dream of just leaving without a goodbye at least.

After George left to go stand by Emilia's side (who looked stunning, as always), Eli was up for grabs for all the young men in the room. She couldn't believe how the night was turning out, somehow she was considered as some sort of prize, and mothers everywhere were trying to snatch her away for their sons.

"Was your… debutante-thingo-ma-bobby like this?" she whispered quietly to Charlotte when she had been released from Rory Merie's grip and was heading towards the punch.

"Almost. Probably not as over the top as this," Charlotte replied. "And besides – I didn't have as many boys come. I mean, it's taken almost two years now for my parents to find me a suitor," she continued.

"_What_?" Eli exclaimed in shock, halting in mid-stride, pulling Charlotte, who had linked arms with her, back with force.

"Careful Eli, this is Armani!" she objected. Eli frowned slightly but let it slide as Charlotte brushed down her silvery-blue gown. "And I _said_ that it's taken my parents two years to find me a suitor," she repeated almost snappishly.

"A – a 'suitor'? As in – you're getting _married_?" she questioned incredulously. Charlotte sniffed pointedly in response.

"Not _yet_, we aren't even properly courting. And nothing has been decided – he's just a distinct possibility," she replied almost coolly, stopping a waiter as he sped through the room, and taking two glasses of French champagne from his tray, handing one to Eli. "Come on then, let's try and find some guys. I'm bored," she declared, beginning to stride away.

Eli stared after Charlotte in shock. Sure, she knew that her friend had been kind of distant recently, but all of a sudden she was rude, snobby and talking about marriage. What had happened? How could she have missed that sudden transformation?

Although, Charlotte had always been a little bit stuffy, a little bit too interested in social milieus and standards… maybe she had been the person she was for her whole life and Eli had only just noticed it. It seemed so incredible, and yet… it was certainly a possibility.

"Are you coming?" Charlotte snapped, turning around to face her friend.

"No, I – I think I need to go speak to a few people. You go have fun with your suitor," she replied, her voice slightly shaken, and slightly angered. It was one thing to be thrust into her situation, but she couldn't comprehend anyone just taking it lying down like that. Still holding her untouched glass of champagne, Eli started to escape to the outer edges of the ballroom.

"Why _Eliza_! So nice to see you here!" she heard an insincere voice croon. She turned to see Clare, wearing a hideously bright vermillion ball gown with an even lower cut than Lyla's dress, her possie close behind, staring at their leader in weak submission.

"Yeah. It's funny, me being at my own party and all," she replied sarcastically. "Listen, I'm looking for someone, I need to get past," she lied, stepping forwards. Clare stepped to the side, stopping her retreat. "Alright, what do you want?" she asked snappishly.

"Here's the thing, Eliza," she said, stepping very close to her, glaring down at her opponent behind heavy layers of makeup, placing her arms on her hips. "The trial auditions for the musical are coming up soon. You can try out. And _if_ you get in, there's a second round – when you choose your parts," she informed her factually.

"I _know_ this, Clare," she snapped pointedly in response. Clare smirked slightly.

"So here's the thing. _If_ you get to the second round of auditions – which I doubt you will, you're _not_ going to try out for Christine. Are we clear?" she directed coolly. "I've had the leads in the Rosings Park College musicals for almost five years. That's not going to change because of _you_," she snapped dangerously, her cold eyes flashing. Eli stepped back in irritation.

"I'm going to audition for the part that I _want_, Clare, and you can't change that. Now fuck off – I'm busy," she finished angrily, stepping once more to the side. Clare looked disgruntled, not having had the opportunity to embarrass her, but reluctantly allowed Eli to pass. She wove in and out of people, who were all attempting to wish her well or secure her for a dance, but all she cared about was getting away so she could think for a moment.

"You're not supposed to be drinking that," she heard a voice say. She turned, only to find Darcy standing right behind her. He wore a three piece domino suit with a black shirt, tie, trousers and jacket, the only flashes of anything _but_ being his grey vest and the single red rose tucked into his breast pocket. His hair had been brushed back slightly, allowing her once more to see his brilliant pale violet eyes. All in all, he looked very handsome, and his effect on her just made Eli all the more nervous.

"I'm not drinking it. I haven't touched it, Charlotte just… gave it to me," she replied, noticing that she still had the champagne in her hand. "Do you want it? I don't drink," she offered, holding it out to him. He took it with a small nod.

"So. Sixteen."

"Yep."

"It wasn't too bad for me. You should be okay," he commented, sipping the champagne slowly.

"Well, a lot has changed in the past two and a half years. Sixteen is something completely different now," she replied pointedly, crossing her arms.

"What would you be doing if you were in Australia today?" he questioned. She shrugged.

"Probably just hang out on the beach with my friends. Maybe go into Sydney for dinner," she said noncommittally.

"And what did you do today?" he asked, raising one eyebrow slightly.

"Stood in some boutique as my Mother forced me to try on clothes," she muttered morbidly.

"Got any good gifts?" he inquired.

"This _really_ cool book about ancient religious symbols in Renaissance art," she replied eagerly, forgetting her dislike and uneasiness for a moment. "And another one about all these old English fairytales, it's _really_ awesome to understand all the meaning behind them. Oh, and I got this one about Steam Punk, and that was really detailed and has some great pictures of these old –"

"You read?" he exclaimed, his eyebrows rising slightly in shock. She scowled.

"_Yes_, I read. Wow, you're a real smart one, aren't you," she snapped pointedly. He shifted slightly in discomfort.

"I just – well, most girls don't get excited upon receiving books for their birthdays," he murmured in reply, with a slight shrug.

"Yeah, well I hope you realise that I'm not 'most girls'," she said coolly. He met her eyes slowly.

"Oh, I know," he replied, his gaze just as blazing and intense as it ever was.

Her next statement died in her throat, and she was left without words to speak by the expression in his eyes.

"Listen, did you want to… dance, or anything?" he questioned, sounding rather nervous as he glanced over to the dance floor. Eli followed his line of sight, and felt her answer springing to her lips before she even had a chance to consider it.

"No."

"No?" he questioned in surprise, his dark eyebrows rising. He seemed almost… impressed.

"I – I don't feel like dancing right now," she explained awkwardly, hoping that he would take the bait and just _leave_, just let her try and scrape of the pieces of her rapidly disintegrating life in peace, without making everything that much more difficult for her.

"I didn't mean now. Later," he corrected himself stiffly.

"And there was me thinking that you didn't like to dance," she threw back in a slightly teasing voice. His eyes shifted over to one of the large windows, giving him a view over the rose garden that they had stood in not long ago, gazing up at the moon with longing.

"Depends on the partner," he practically murmured. Eli frowned slightly as she looked upon him. What the hell did he mean by _that_? "Your mother seems pretty eager to get you out in society," he commented, still not meeting her eyes.

"So it would seem."

"Any reason?" he questioned curiously, shifting his intense gaze over to her. She felt a shudder run down her spine, and chewed her lip, but was determined not to let him get the best of her.

"She wants to get me married off, I guess," she shrugged. "I'm not sure. I think she just wants to get rid of me," she admitted, noticing something change in Darcy's expression. A very strange look crossed his face, something like… fear? Dread? Distaste? Something she'd said had somehow upset him, but she didn't know _what_.

"A – and has she picked your '_husband-to-be_' yet?" he spat in angry question. She stepped back slightly, startled with the force of his anger.

"No. She seems to be parading men in front of me with the hope that I'll pick one," she replied slightly coolly, crossing her arms against her chest.

"And _have_ you?" he asked, his tone once more hinting at danger. His eyes were dark with anger, and he was clenching and unclenching his fist by his side.

"What kind of girl do you take me for, Darcy?" she questioned with annoyance. "If everything in me is saying 'this isn't the life I want', then do you really think that I'll just bow to my mother's wishes and let her set me up with someone that I don't know, and don't love?" she asked him almost desperately.

"People very rarely marry for love in this society," he replied stiffly, glancing at her up and down. "It wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary," he added after a moment's thought.

"Well that's not _me_!" Eli cried in response. "I'm not going to marry someone that I don't love, and I don't love any of those idiots in there clinging to their Mummies, hoping that they can get their hands on me and my parents money!" she argued.

"Then why the hell isn't your mother doing this for your _other_ sisters?" he snapped in return. Eli scoffed.

"Haven't you seen the way that your friend and my sister have been looking at each other?" she questioned, arching an eyebrow. "And haven't you noticed that my other sisters probably haven't been single since the age of ten?" she continued pointedly. He turned slightly to glance at the ballroom. Char and Jay were dancing together with happy smiles and laughter, and Lyla and Katie were dancing with two boys that looked like they had more money than sense. "Apparently _I'm_ the one that needs the most help. So whether I like it or not, this isn't going to end until either I die, I leave England, or I finally agree to marry a man that I've barely met," she stated with pain.

Darcy turned back to her with a masked expression. He was thinking of something, she could tell.

"It could be that you – Happy Birthday, Elizabeth," he muttered, before turning heel, and disappearing back into the party.

'_What the hell just happened_?', Eli thought in shock to herself. What was going on in Darcy's head? Had he suffered brain damage, or something?

Shaking her head, and hopefully all thoughts of Darcy from it, she started to walk back into the party. However, she regretted it almost instantly, after being pulled into the dance floor by Fraser Aylmer-Higgins the moment that she came in view of the crowd. She sighed miserably.

Her sixteenth birthday was _not_ going according to plan. She gave a bitter sort of laugh at that thought. Since when had _anything_ been going according to plan in her life?

"You seem a little distant," Fraser, or Cole, or Christian, or Victor commented. She met his eyes in a slight haze, frowning until she could place his face, his name.

"Something – some_one_ is on my mind," she informed him simply, not caring if he got the wrong idea. Cole gave a small smirk.

"Well, you're on _my_ mind a lot too, Elizabeth," he returned smugly. Eli rolled her eyes.

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm barely sixteen, man. Don't you feel like a paedophile?" she threw back coolly, breaking away from the boy. Ignoring his shocked expression, she turned away, leaving the floor once more.

The gloriously delicious punch tasted like some sort of vile potion in her mouth as she swallowed down a mouthful or two, wishing that she could be lying on a beach with her friends on the other side of the planet, watching the sun set on her childhood as it disappeared beyond her grasp.

The importance of her birthday suddenly hit her. She was _sixteen_. No longer a fifteen year old kid, no, sixteen held different responsibilities. Sixteen was a much heavier number, and she longed desperately to be fifteen again. She longed to just be a child, to not have to think about suitors and husbands and debutante balls, not to have to think about _Darcy_.

"Hey gorgeous, come here often?" she heard a teasing voice question. She allowed Emilia to pull her into a comforting hug, the elder girl able to immediately sense her friend's dismay.

"How do you do it?" Eli questioned her softly. Emilia's eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Not without difficulty, I can tell you that much," she assured her. "I'm lucky. I have George, he's my buffer, and I spend so much time trying to set my friends up that no one tries to do anything with me," she explained simply, shrugging her lithe shoulders. Eli sighed miserably.

It was one thing for people like Emilia, who were beautiful, clever, talented and desirable to simply drift through life, playing the game and reaping the rewards, but it was another to be forced into the process. She glanced her friend up and down. From the tips of her perfectly manicured nails to the ends of her shining pale blonde locks, Emilia was a goddess. Everything seemed to be simple for her, so very, very simple.

"You look great, by the way," Eli complimented her, but she only scoffed and rolled her brilliant pale eyes.

"No more flattery. Why aren't you dancing? I saw Darcy talking to you a minute ago," she responded, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"I didn't want to dance with him, I don't want to discuss it, and I have no intention of dancing with him in the future," Eli announced factually. Emilia hid laughter.

"Me thinks she doth protest too much," she quoted cheekily. Eli's eyes narrowed, but she allowed her friend to get away with that remark. "Hey, did George run our plan for tomorrow by you? We think you're going to enjoy it," she questioned with sparkling eyes.

"He didn't tell me the particulars – but he mentioned some sort of birthday surprise for tomorrow," she informed her. "So. Are you going to fill me in?" she questioned hopefully, Emilia's bell-like laughter ringing around the room.

"Sadly, no. But ten out of ten for effort," she retorted cheerfully, linking their arms. "Now come on – we have to dance. I know that you don't _want_ to –"

"I'd rather chew off my own ear."

"- but like Headmistress du Bourg said, it's a right of passage," she continued, ignoring her friend's interjection. "Come on then, lets dance a waltz together and make some tongues wag!" she said with determination, leading a laughing Eli to the dance floor.

The evening didn't turn out as unpleasant in some aspects as she had dreaded. For the most part, she was dancing with boys that she didn't know, but the precious few minutes where she could laugh and talk with Emilia and George seemed to make up for it all. Of course, the two tables laden with presents were of some assistance, too.

"I bet you that you get at _least_ five bottles of Chanel No5," Emilia commented later in the night, as some of the guests who were not particularly close to the family started to drift home. Eli peered over the splendidly wrapped gift boxes with curiosity.

"Oh look! There's another one from Tiffanies!" Eli announced, putting her count up to seven. "Hey George, do you have a little sister or something with a birthday coming up?" she questioned him, as he peered in confusion at a toilette gift bag.

"I used to have a step-sister from my mothers second or third marriage, but I only met her once," he replied with a shrug. "Hey, what's this?" he inquired, holding up a little ornate metal tin from Elizabeth Arden cosmetics.

"Ahh…" Eli muttered, peering over the boxes to inspect what he was holding. "Oh. You put tampons in it so they don't spill in your bag," she informed him. George made a slightly horrified face. "Em, do you wear tampons?" she questioned her friend.

"Yeah, why?" was the only reply she heard, Emilia being lost somewhere within the pile of gifts.

"Do you want an Elizabeth Arden tampon tin? I don't wear them," she replied, a blonde head popping up behind a large pink and blue box. Spotting something behind Eli's shoulder, she started to snigger. Eli turned quickly to see what the source of such amusement was, her cheeks instantly blushing bright red.

"I always come in at the best moments," Darcy muttered, looking vaguely scarred.

"Did _you_ know that girls need cases for tampons?" George asked him curiously.

"Your question should be _'did I want to know_'," Darcy muttered in return. "I just came to tell you that the adults are starting to take their coffees in one of the lounges. They'd like you to join them," he informed everyone.

"Hey, you've got a sister, right, Darcy?" Eli questioned suddenly.

"Yes," he answered with hesitation, glancing warily at the huge amount of parcels on the long table that seemed to almost be towering over them.

"Does she have a birthday coming up?" she continued to probe.

"No."

"Do you?"

"No, and even if I did, I wouldn't want gifts that were intended for a girl," he pointed out. George chuckled.

"Sure about that?" he questioned teasingly. Darcy's eyes flashed with a bored sort of irritation at the elder man.

"Is this supposed to be some sort of subtle hint?" Eli questioned with distaste, holding up a set of gorgeous silk _His & Hers_ bathrobes as if they were giving off a foul odour.

"You could wear the _His_ one when you're feeling in a male-mood," Emilia offered, shaking a small green box curiously.

"Want it?" Eli offered George, who snorted with laughter.

"Sure, because I've always found that shade of peach particularly flattering on me," he said with sarcasm. Eli tossed it back on the table, pulling open another box.

"Shouldn't you wait till you get home to do that?" Darcy pointed out, shifting almost nervously as he watched her.

"This'll save me the trip. I think I'm going to donate some of this stuff," she replied, moving slightly further away from him. He smelt _glorious_…

"To what? Who would accept a bottle of _J'adore_ perfume as a donation?" Emilia questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"I feel too guilty keeping all of this crap," Eli explained, sniffing a bottle of Lanvin bath oils.

"But it's your birthday – you're _supposed_ to be showered with stuff you don't want," George pointed out, pulling forth a gorgeous deep maroon Ralph Lauren scarf.

"Remind me to never have a birthday again," Eli muttered, fingering a delicate silver bracelet from one of the several Tiffanies & Co. boxes she had discovered. She actually found it rather pretty, taking it from the box and inspecting it more closely.

"Oh – yeah. I didn't know if you would like it," George commented, spotting it in her hands.

"It's beautiful, I love it!" she assured him with a soft smile as she slid it into her wrist. A slight grin lit up George's face as he continued to look through her presents. Eli softly began to hum along to the music now playing in the ballroom, which was quickly running out of people. She allowed her body to sway slightly to the song, feeling the music run through her body like her blood.

"This would look nice on Jay," Emilia commented, glancing over gold Cartier necklace.

"Oh! Where did Jay go? I've hardly spoken to her at all tonight," Eli murmured, snapping out of her trance.

"Probably in a dark corner somewhere canoodling with Char," George commented, soothing Eli's movements as she prepared to run off in search of her sister.

"I forgot," she laughed, shaking her head slightly at her silliness. "They're so good together. It's like the sun shines over the top of both their heads. I think they're the cause of Global warming, they're both so warm and lovable," she commented, glancing out the window into the gardens below. Indeed, Jay and Char were wrapped up in coats and scarfs, taking a walk amongst the trees and sleeping flowers.

"Obviously you approve of them then," Darcy commented, with the slightest edge to his tone. Eli turned in surprise, a blush softly rising to her cheeks; she thought that he'd gone already.

"They're both really nice, very happy to make others happy, and obviously care about each other," she pointed out. "They're of very similar dispositions. I'm just glad that they both seem to be content," she added with slight stiffness.

"But it's putting all of the focus on _you_," Darcy responded. She frowned.

"What, do you expect me to sabotage my sister's relationship so that I can avoid Francie's meddling?" she questioned pointedly. He shrugged.

"It's hardly even a relationship, and it's unfair to you," he pointed out. She rolled her eyes.

"Bullshit. I wouldn't do that to my sister," she snapped. "Could you do that to _your_ sister? Ruin her chance of happiness for your own gains?" she inquired curtly.

"You have to look at the situation differently. If you break it down, it's just survival of the fittest," he argued.

"I'd rather go extinct than make Jay unhappy. I'd never be able to do that to her," she informed him coolly.

"But you want your mother to stop trying to marry you off," he clarified. Her eyes narrowed.

"Of course I do."

"Then it's the natural course of action. I'm not suggesting that you _do_ – but without human's instinct to put survival above all else, then we wouldn't even be here," he pointed out.

"Thank you, Darcy," she said suddenly, turning to face him with irritation written all over her features. "You've just confirmed something for me. Your assistance in this matter has been invaluable," she practically snapped, practically throwing a Prada purse to the floor as she stormed out of the sitting room.

She knew that he had requested her not to try and figure him out for a while, but in her rage she didn't care about that. He had all but admitted to cutting Gershom Wickham out of his inheritance of the company, (and whilst she found Gershom an indulgent little baby, she still pitied him) an action that she had _stupidly_ doubted him capable of doing!

How could she think, even for a _second_, that he would be possible of anything less? He was an arrogant, pathetic little excuse for a human being. She _hated_ him. How dare he even _suggest_ that she do something like that to Jay, precious, wonderful Jay, all for her own gain? Could he be so heartless? So vile?

She ignored Francie's cries for her to join the remainder of the party in one of the sitting rooms for coffee. She kept on walking, not sure what she was doing, not sure where she was going, all she knew was that she needed to cool down somewhere by herself for a while.

The night air was freezing, but she didn't care, content to just stand out there, to feel, to be surrounded by the cold and to let her frustrations slip away.

Later that night, as she opened an impossibly beautiful white gold set of hair brushes, with her name engraved on each one, surrounded by delicate outlines of daisies, wrapped up to perfection with nothing but a small card wishing her a happy birthday, signed from W. D., she was still so bitter that she put them back in their box, and slid them underneath her bed.

They were beautiful, but she couldn't stand to touch them, not when she could feel the lingering intensity of his gaze upon her.

**A/N: I was really pleased to read some constructive criticism on the last chapter, it all helps me write. And I'm glad that I could answer a few of your questions :D But now I have one for you. A lot of readers have been commenting that they just love George and Emilia (as do I!), but I was curious, do you want more George and Emilia?**

**I have some more timelines for you. **

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – Some plot between George and Emilia emerges.**

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – I've changed a few things, so Eli finds out about the arranged marriage a chapter earlier, but it's only one sentence and then a cliffie, so you don't see her reaction until nineteen. I just thought some of you were impatient, so I wanted to ease that :D**

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO – The plot thickens between George and Emilia. We also finally get to meet Toni, Llewellyn's off and on girlfriend.**

**Well, I hope that was helpful :D Please review! ^__^**


	14. Cracks in the Foundations

"_Just what I'm going through,  
This is nothing new,  
No, no just another phase of finding what I really need,  
Is what makes me bleed,  
And like a new disease she's still too young to treat…"_

_-_Damien Rice, 'Volcanoes'

"I'm home!" Eli called loudly, as she walked through the front door of her house after George and Emilia had dropped her off. They had all gone to see the musical production of _The Phantom of the Opera_ in London, which was clearly the best birthday gift she had gotten – and spending a day out with her friends had allowed her to momentarily let go of the anger she felt towards Darcy.

"Where were you?" Dorr asked curiously as she walked past his study.

"Went to see _The Phantom_ with George and Emilia," she informed him. He nodded slowly, turning back to his book without interest.

"Your mother and the twins are out shopping or something like that. Jay is crying. I don't know why, but you might want to give her a hug or something before you start studying," he suggested, turning a page in silence.

"What? She's crying?" Eli exclaimed in complete surprise.

"I don't know or care why. Hurry up with all that girl-talk, you missed almost a whole day of study today, not to mention yesterday," he snapped dismissively, waving his daughter off.

Eli rushed upstairs to her sister's bedroom without another thought to her father's insensitivity. She desperately tried to imagine all that could have happened to her sister to reduce her to a state of tears. Surely it couldn't be anything to do with _Char_, could it?

"Jay? Jay, what's wrong?" she questioned quickly, stepping into her sister's room with haste. She found Jay sitting on her bed with a box of tissues and a bar of chocolate, watching the sad scenes from _Centre Stage_ over and over again.

"I – it's nothing," she assured her, but Eli could tell that it was a lie. "This is just so _sad_. But not as sad as _Beaches_, I just finished that one. Oh, and _Love Story_, that wasn't happy either," she continued. "_Moulin Rogue_ was probably the worst though. That was _really_ sad," she sighed, giving a little sniffle. Her nose was bright red, her eyes puffy, and her hair a mess as she blew into another tissue.

"Jay, why are you watching sad movies?" Eli questioned, stepping towards her sister with concern.

"Oh, I guess… to take my mind of things, I suppose," she muttered, staring at her shoes as she put the movie on pause. "Did _you_ know that Char has a girlfriend?" she questioned accusingly.

"_What_? Char doesn't have a girlfriend – he's head over heels for you!" she objected. Jay gave another sniffle, and a bitter little laugh.

"Clare told me today. She said that Char and Georgie Darcy have been going out for a few months now, before we started at Rosings," she informed her in a clipped voice.

"That's a lie, Jay, and Clare's only doing it to make you miserable. She's a bitch. I'm pretty sure Darcy's sister is just a kid," Eli assured her firmly. Jay gave a tiny angered sob, and shook her head.

"No, it's true! She's been on holiday recently, and only just got back. Char isn't answering any of my calls! Don't try to _deny_ this!" she cried angrily. "H – he was just – he was playing with me," she sniffled.

"_No_ Jay, it can't be true. Char isn't like that, and I _know_ that he likes you. This is all Clare's doing," Eli argued, ignoring her sister's frustration.

"Eli, I'm telling you, it's true!" Jay snapped, in a sudden burst of anger that was very un-Jay-like. "And why do you care? You'll just be set up with another gorgeous, rich guy and run off to have an amazing life. Guys like Char are practically non-existent!" she continued. Eli flinched at her words, but didn't react. "You've got _tons_ of guys trailing after you like love sick puppies, you have Gershom and Colin and Darcy – all of them would give _anything_ to go out with you!" she snapped.

"Darcy doesn't give a damn about me," Eli reminded her coolly, the slightest traces of anger appearing in her tone.

"He's crazy about you, and all you do is ignore him. I'd _kill_ to have Char look at me the way Darcy looks at you," Jay responded darkly, glaring up at her sister. "Just – go. Go play your piano, go sing, go read, go study, just leave me alone," she demanded. Eli trued to object, but Jay only cried out for her to go once more, so she reluctantly slipped out of her sister's bedroom, stepping into hers in a sort of trance.

**8****th**** of March**

**6:21pm**

Dear Journal,

Fact No.1: Darcy is an absolute prick.

Fact No.2: It's almost certain that he cut Gershom out of the company.

Fact No.3: Something weird is up with Charlotte.

Fact No.4: Something weird is up with Char.

Fact No.5: Jay is in a _really_ shit mood.

Fact No.6: Clare almost definitely had something to do with Char's sudden weirdness.

Fact No.7: If I don't stop Francie soon, I'm going to be in a veil before summer holidays.

Fact No.8: Things are getting a little _too_ weird for my liking.

~ * ~

Things only got weirder for Eli over the next few days. Charlotte, Jay, Char and Darcy were all very distant, and a great deal of her time was spent comforting her miserable sister, so much so that she had almost forgotten the impending trial auditions for the musical. However, what she _did_ note was Clare's smugness. Walking into the first music lesson for the new week, the day of the auditions, was some sort of confirmation of something for her – she was not ninety per cent sure that Clare's smugness was due to her success in separating Jay and Char.

"Your ass is on my desk space," Eli informed Clare coolly, stepping up to her table, where the head girl was practically sprawled across the surface, lecherously looking Darcy up and down as she tried to discuss something with him.

"Such foul language," Clare tisked, glancing over her shoulder. "And you can wait. Whilst you're there, take notes. You need a decent role model," she added, smirking at her own 'wit'.

"Sorry, I don't have a sticky-note. Could I just write 'inappropriate' and 'tasteless' on your bum, then?" she questioned with faked curiosity. Clare scowled, and sat up properly, sliding off the top of the desk, before standing at full height in front of her, non-existent chest thrown out. "Listen, I just want to sit down and do my work. Are you going to let me?" she questioned snappishly.

"You need to show me more respect," Clare said coolly.

"Respect needs to be _earned_, Clare. You can't just expect it," Eli responded, stepping to the side, and placing her folder down on the desk.

"Not when you're Head Girl, _Eliza_," she argued angrily.

"Yes, even when you're Head Girl. However, I think you may have been taking that term a little bit too literally. It's a title, not a job description," she replied, sitting down before Clare could realise what she had just said.

"So I noticed your name wasn't on the sign up sheet for the auditions," Clare announced, Eli's comment clearly going over her head. All of a sudden the musical came rushing back to Eli; she could hardly believe that she had almost forgotten about it!

"I put my slip in ages ago for the auditions, Clare," she replied coolly, recalling handing in her sign in form.

"Really? Because all the times are written up on the noticeboard, and I noted that your name wasn't there," Clare simpered, in a falsely concerned voice. Eli frowned.

"I _handed my note in_," she retorted with a short glare. "I put it on Llewellyn's desk when we were supposed to. I put it on top of Michelle's," she snapped, the memory flashing before her eyes.

"Hmm. Well maybe it just didn't get to Llewellyn…" Clare muttered thoughtfully, tapping her lips, a cruel little smile twisting over her face. Eli felt the blood drain from her cheeks. She stood up suddenly, storming straight out of the classroom, Clare's laughter ringing in her ears as she rushed down the hall. Standing in front of the school noticeboard, she read the names quickly, desperately, searching for hers, searching for her time.

"That _bitch_!" she cried out suddenly, when she realised that she wasn't on the list. She felt anger flood her instantly. How could Clare just take her note? Was she _that_ afraid of competition?

"Language, Eli," she heard Llewellyn scold her patiently from behind. She wheeled around instantly, hope rising quickly in her chest.

"I put my note for the auditions on your desk like we were supposed to. I _did_ it. My name isn't up here," she stated instantly. "_Tell_ me that you got my note. _Tell me_ that this is just a typo," she begged firmly. Llewellyn's amber eyes widened slightly, and he glanced over the list.

"I wasn't in charge of the audition times, Eli," he informed her apologetically. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that your note didn't get in," he said honestly.

"No. Sir, I'm auditioning for this musical," she stated firmly, with intense determination. "Clare isn't going to do this to me. I'm auditioning," she swore.

"Eli, the audition times have been drawn up –"

"I'm on a _musical scholarship_! I'm _supposed_ to be doing this!" she objected. "You _know_ that I can do this! You _know_ that I should be auditioning for this – I don't even care if I don't get the lead – I'll sing in the bloody chorus, I just want to do this musical!" she cried angrily. Llewellyn sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Eli, I know this fully well. And I know that you deserve more than the chorus. But this school is pretty big on organisation –"

"Clare practically admitted that she stole my slip! It'll take me _two_ minutes – I'll stay behind if I need to, I'll come back tomorrow and audition if I need to – but I want to do this!" she argued. Llewellyn's eyes narrowed slightly.

"What do you mean, Clare stole your slip?" he questioned with a frown.

"She's been trying to sabotage me since the day we met. I don't know what her problem is – but she _hates_ me," she explained with exasperation. "She stole my diary and read it out to everyone, she used me to try and get Darcy's attention, she's _always_ picking at me, _threatened_ me at my birthday party, broke up Char and Jay, and now _this_!" she cried angrily, hatred for that scarlet-haired brat running through her veins faster than blood.

"Can you prove any of this?" he questioned patiently. She stopped her angry pacing, and slowly shook her head.

"Char, Darcy and Celosia were there when she read out my diary, a few of her friends were there when she threatened me, but they'd never betray their 'leader'," she muttered quietly. "I can't believe this! This musical is all I've _ever_ wanted to do, and she's taking that away from me!" she cried out angrily.

"Eli, you're being a bit melodramatic. You can do the musical next year, and Clare won't be there to make it harder for you," he pointed out. She shook her head in anger.

"I won't _be_ here next year! And even if I were, you wouldn't be doing _The Phantom_! Ever since I was just a kid I wanted to perform in the musical! But I _can't_ because of bloody Clare, and bloody Dorr, and stupid Francie and this _school_!" she cried with frustration.

"Eli, you have amazing potential as a performer, and an understanding of musical theory that I've never seen in a person so young, and rarely in a person twice your age," Llewellyn said calmly, placing his hands on her shoulders to steady her. She refused to meet his eyes. "You're gifted. And I know that you can do whatever you want in life. But sometimes there will be obstacles –"

"_No_!" she snapped in response, her dark eyes flashing with anger. "If I'm as gifted and talented as you seem to think, and if I can do anything I want in life – then I'm _not_ letting someone like Clare stop me from singing! You'll have to drag me kicking and screaming from that stage!" she argued angrily. Llewellyn gave another weary sigh, and a small chuckle.

"I admire your determination. Alright, I'll see what I can do. I'll hopefully be able to give you a time in a few minutes," he informed her. She nodded thankfully, breathing a sigh of relief.

"_Thank you_, sir. This musical means a lot to me," she replied gratefully. He gave a grin in response.

"I'm pleased to see your enthusiasm. Now go back to class, I'll only be a few minutes. I need to talk to some people about fitting you in today," he instructed. She nodded quickly, and after a brief, slightly awkward, but very excited hug, that left Llewellyn slightly startled and Eli slightly red, she dashed back into the room, Clare's smug laughter replaced by his amused chuckle.

"Such a shame about that, Eli. Oh well, there's always next year!" Clare crooned the moment that she stepped back into the room.

"Llewellyn's just getting me a time for the auditions now, Clare," she retorted simply, walking back to her desk in calm. She wanted to punch Clare in the jaw for what she had tried to do – it filled her with anger that she could be such a complete and total bitch!

"W – _what_?" Clare exclaimed, the laughter dying from her lips. Eli rolled her eyes.

"Thanks for the concern," she snapped sarcastically.

"Morning," Darcy muttered as she sat down. She ignored him, choosing instead to take out her books in silence. He repeated what he had said, but she only ignored him once more. "It's polite to say it back, you know," he pointed out to her.

"I'm fully aware."

"Then why didn't you?" he questioned, frowning slightly at her apparent lack of etiquette.

"Well I guess I'm just not in a very polite mood," she snapped in retort. Darcy muttered something under his breath as he took out his sheet music folder. "What did you just say?" she questioned suddenly, her tone quite angered.

"I said 'PMS much?'," he repeated snappishly.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you? Why to guys always assume that if a girl is in a shit mood, it _has_ to be PMS?" she questioned angrily. Darcy did not meet her eyes, only shook his head slightly, continuing to unpack his bag. She gave a small scoff, but said nothing more as Llewellyn entered class.

"Eli, you're at one forty this afternoon," he informed her briefly. She gave a sigh of relief, feeling a large grin overtake her features as Clare let out a squeal of objection.

She knew that Darcy wanted to say something at the end of class, but she refused to give him the opportunity. She raced down the hall as he called her name, not looking back, not slowing down. She knew that she couldn't be near him, not after what she had learnt and suspected him of. And even though she could all but confirm his guilt, the worst part of it was that he still made her feel uncontrollably attracted to him. It was practically impossible to sit beside him, to breathe in his smell, and to resist the urge to visibly shudder and melt into a puddle of hormones whenever his hand lightly brushed hers.

She turned into an almost abandoned hallway, and let out a long, shuddering breath as she pressed her back against the wall. It was getting to be extremely difficult to be around him. Her only solace was the thought that it was three more days of school before a two week break, and even though she had to spend it learning how to balance books on her head, at least it would be away from Darcy.

Maybe she needed to have another talk with Professor Llewellyn, she thought quietly to herself as she tried to calm down. It was going to be a _long_ three days.

~ * ~

The cold water was freezing, but exactly the jolt he needed to be able to walk out of the boys bathroom without making an idiot out of himself. He pressed his forehead against the mirrored glass, and took a long, slow, deep breath.

_You have to get control of yourself! You're a Darcy, for goodness sake! You can't go around behaving like a common rake!_

I can't just sit next to her for the rest of term, smelling her shampoo, her perfume, hearing her crystal voice, _feeling_ her skin against mine, I can't! I'll go mad!

_But you managed to stop yourself today_!

If Llewellyn and the other students hadn't been there, we would be halfway up to _'In Flagrante Delicto' _about three seconds after she walked into the room.

_You don't know that_. _You've resisted her this long; you can do it for a little longer_. _You have more time now, remember_. _You need to use that time, she's still so new to it all; she's scared_.

She needs to get over her bloody insecurities! I'm putting aside _everything_ in order to pursue her – I can't just wait around forever, doesn't she know how hard it was to resist her the other night at her party? How hard it was to _not_ throw her down on the floor and -

_It doesn't matter_. _You haven't even made up your mind about her. You have to consider your duty, your position in life. You can resist._.

He pulled his forehead away from the glass, and let out a groan of irritation. He was eighteen! He was supposed to have control! But then again – he wasn't supposed to have such a temptation in front of him!

God, but she was so breathtaking. Her beauty was much more subtle than her sister's, and it took him a little while to notice, but she was… simply stunning. Gorgeous. Oh, how he adored her…

Pushing his hair back slightly, he stepped out of the boys bathrooms, and headed towards the music department. He was hoping on getting in some practise during his study so he could work off some of the excess emotion that he had building up inside of him. He knew what he would _rather_ be doing, sitting up in the student lounge, watching her do her homework before the fireplace, examining the delicate turn of her slender neck, and the slightest hints of her cleavage beneath her ridiculous amount of warm layers. He lived for those glimpses of her long white arms whenever they saw each other out of school...

But it was only a matter of time. He would wait a little while; give Elizabeth some time to work off her steam and to adjust to her new found place in society, in the meantime, her ridiculous excuse for a mother paying her less attention as she focused on her gold-digging older sister, now that Char was no longer set in her sights. He would speak to her as soon as the new term began. But soon, so soon, they could be together.

He gripped his violin tightly as his mind wandered to her once more.

'Soon' couldn't come soon enough.

~ * ~

Eli was elated as she walked out of the music room at the end of lunch, a yellow sheet of paper clutched in her hand like a golden ticket, informing her of her casting audition next term for the musical. She had sung four lines and they instantly told her she was in – all she had to do was audition for the part she wanted, and she was officially going to be in _The Phantom of the Opera_!

"Did you get in?" Emilia questioned her excitedly outside the music room. "Well, of _course_ you got in – but did the get the part of Christine?" she rephrased. Eli laughed, holding up her sheet. Emilia squealed with excitement.

"That's so amazing! I'm so happy for you!" she cried joyfully.

"I don't have a part yet, you know that," she reminded her friend between hugs.

"But you _will_, and you'll get Christine, and I know this because I'm doing the costumes and makeup. I'll conveniently make the dress in _your_ size, not Clare's," she replied with a rather wicked grin. Eli held back a snigger, but she felt grateful laughter bubble up in her throat.

"God, I feel horrible for feeling happy when Jay is so miserable… but I really wanted this," she sighed happily, her dark eyes sparkling.

"Well you deserved it. I've heard you practise, you're _amazing_, every time I hear you my mind is just blown away, and you keep on getting better and better!" Emilia praised excitedly. "When you're rich and famous, you'll have to tell everyone that I moulded you into who you are today, alright?" she requested.

"Oh, of course, you can have copyright on me," Eli giggled excitedly in response, as the two linked arms and started down the hall.

"Excellent! Do I get any commissions?" she questioned curiously. Eli hummed thoughtfully.

"How does my everlasting love and affection sound to you?" she offered cheekily, before the two burst into laughter. "God, I'm so excited about this! I've loved this musical ever since I was a –"

"Eli!"

The two turned when they heard Eli's name being called up the hall, coming face to face with Gershom Wickham, a grin plastered over his handsome face. "Did you get in?" he questioned, jabbing his thumb in the direction he had come from.

"To the musical? Yeah, I just auditioned," Eli replied, excitedly flashing her yellow paper. He beamed.

"That's great! I got through the first round about twenty minutes ago – fingers crossed we get a few scenes together," he said hopefully, responding with his broad grin, running a hand through his sandy hair.

"Well, I don't know what part I want yet…" Eli muttered, although she knew it was a lie. She wanted to be Christine more than anything else in the world.

"Come on, with a voice like your's, your _definitely _going to get the lead," Gershom assured her.

"That's what _I _told her, but she'll never listen," Emilia sighed dramatically, pinching her friend's cheek playfully. Eli pulled a face, but couldn't help from laughing.

"You know, maybe we should meet up these holidays and rehearse together," Gershom suggested offhandedly.

"I very much doubt there's anything you could teach her, Gershom," came a cold response from behind. Eli wheeled around instantly, her heart pumping madly. She threw Darcy an angry glare, and turned back away from him.

"I'm sure I could show her a thing or two, Darcy," Gershom threw back innocently, an annoyed little frown crossing his lips.

"A word, Elizabeth?"

"I'll give you one, Darcy. _Bye_," Eli snapped in response, turning heel, and instantly dragging Emilia out of the room.

"See you later, Eli!" Gershom called from behind, but Eli took no notice.

"Woah! Slow down kiddo, you're gonna get that licence taken away from you," Emilia requested, when she found that she was having difficulty following her hasty friend.

"Why does he have to do that? Walk into every situation and complicate _everything_?" she exclaimed angrily, practically stomping her foot on the ground in irritation as they stopped by a locker bay a few halls down.

"He barely said a thing!"

"He doesn't need to _say_ anything!"

"I don't get it, why are you so against Darcy? He's really nice when you get to know him!" Emilia questioned incredulously. Eli sighed, and ran a hand through her dark curls.

"I just – I don't even know anymore," she admitted bitterly. "But I know that I _don't_ like him. That's not going to change," she said firmly. Emilia sighed.

"Fine, but don't pull so hard next time, you mad-woman," she muttered, rolling her eyes. Eli let out another laugh.

"Sorry, I'm being weird, I know. But I just don't like him," she tried to explain. Emilia gave a short nod.

"Alright, I guess I can't set you two up," she acquiesced finally. Eli beamed.

"You've made me a _very_ happy girl to hear you say that," she replied. Emilia shook her head in disbelief, and then let out a chuckle.

"We'd better get to class. We'll celebrate later, okay?" she decided. Eli gave a nod, they hugged, and left for their individual lessons.

Eli sighed as she walked away. She couldn't _wait_ for the holidays to bring a break from Darcy.

**A/N: A few people asked about whether or not Darcy will end up separating Jay and Char. I can say only this: in his mind, it is convenient to him to do so, because it means that Francie will stop pushing all these boys at Eli and he can get rid of his jealously. And there are still questions about how an arranged marriage can occur in modern society, so I will say it once and for all, it probably wouldn't, but it is legally possible. Morally it's wrong, that's pretty obvious, but you have to use your imagination a little ^__^ Happy reading, I hope you're all enjoying it so far! :D**


	15. New Scenery

"_So it's a private education,  
and it's not getting any easier,  
but if it's any indication,  
well I feel a little weaker now_"

-Josh Pyke, 'Private Education'

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Eli questioned, for what felt like the millionth time, anxiously taking in the ever-slimming form of her sister.

"I'm going to be _fine_, Eli, stop fussing!" Jay assured her once more. "I'll be fine as long as you come back refined," she begged of her, trying to push her sister out of the front door with all of her might.

"But Jay – it's going to be a fucking _nightmare_! I don't want to go!" Eli hissed, so that Francie, who was waiting impatiently in the car, couldn't hear her daughter's objections.

"It's either spend two weeks with Mrs du Bourg, or stay here with Mum and Dad," Jay said plainly. Eli stopped struggling for a moment, and looked thoughtful.

"Which is the lesser of two evils?" she asked suddenly. Jay simply rolled her eyes, and continued to push her sister from the house. "No! Stop! Please – at least _here_ we have chocolate!" she cried, no longer caring whether or not Francie heard her.

"And when you _won't_ be in your room studying furiously, you'll be standing in a shop having mum scream insults at all of the assistants," she reminded her with slight coolness. Eli winced visibly, her moment of distraction giving Jay a chance to take her arm and begin to drag her towards the car. Eli just started to struggle once more as Jay pulled open the door, and practically threw her sister into the back seat.

"I don't want to go!" Eli cried pitifully, pressing her face up against the glass window after Jay slammed the door, the car revving into life.

"Don't mess up!" she called out finally, before turning back to the front door as the car slid out of the driveway and onto the road.

Eli couldn't believe that she had been coerced into her holiday at Headmistress du Bourg's own home. She'd been working furiously on her school work for the last couple weeks of term, before she was suddenly informed by Francie that she was to be spending the next two weeks stuck in some old estate on the outskirts of Rosings Park, learning how to sit, stand, eat, drink and talk like a 'proper little lady'. She'd tried desperately to get out of that particular form of torture, even resorting to begging Francie, but no matter what she did, there was no way of avoiding it.

Glancing at her silent mother in the front seat, Eli couldn't help but feel a stab of rage. After Char had suddenly lost interest in Jay, she had turned mad, desperately trying to find husbands for her eldest and youngest daughters. She had already tried to set the majority of Eli's proposed suitors onto Jay, but without leaving Eli in peace.

She had assumed that what with Jay being suddenly single, Francie would have no excuse to still try and force her into marriage. But unfortunately, whilst Francie was no longer throwing hundreds of new male faces at her every ten minutes, she and Headmistress du Bourg seemed to know something that Eli didn't know, and it meant by no means that she was free. In fact, she almost seemed to be attending _more_ tea parties and social functions than before. It was rather strange. Eli had a slight suspicion that they had selected a boy for her, but she had no idea _who_ it was. But it was the only conclusion she could come to. Had they narrowed down their fields, and were now exposing her to only the cream of the crop, waiting for one of them to pounce on her with an offer?

Eli watched the frosty fields speed past from her fogged up window. England wasn't really that attractive. Everything seemed so gloomy, there was hardly _ever_ any sunlight, how did people live in such a place? Didn't the English know the simple pleasure of being able to dig your warm, uncovered toes into the hot sand on a summer day as the waves crashed around your ankles?

Eli was no quitter. She had put off her plans of returning to Australia, but that didn't mean that they were completely forgotten. However, she had endeavoured to give England a chance, not to just run away because the weather wasn't as pleasant. But she knew full well that if she had to continue her life for much longer in the way that it was going, that there would be nothing stopping her from just picking up her things and grabbing the first plane to Sydney.

"I don't want to get any phone calls from your Headmistress saying that you've been a little brat," Francie announced coolly when they had arrived at a large Victorian estate, with extensive grounds that seemed to be far more imprisoning than they were liberating. Eli glanced at a large weeping willow, allowing her nose to scrunch up in distaste. Oh, how she simply _longed_ for the warm yellow cream colour of a healthy gum tree, or the brilliant green of the eucalyptus leaves hanging from the greyish branches.

"You really know how to be sentimental, don't you," Eli replied with equal detachment, watching the bell boy take her Louis Vuitton luggage from the boot of the car with a slight frown. _I can carry my own bags_…

"I've already laid down the rules for you. Just behave, and at least _try_ to listen to what your Headmistress has to say," she snapped coolly, lowering her Prada sunglasses to cover her cold blue eyes. She said nothing more to her daughter as she climbed back into her car, starting the engine, and speeding away as quickly as she could.

"Allow me to take you to your room, Miss," the bell boy said, when he had loaded her bags onto a trolly.

"I could have gotten that myself," Eli pointed out. He gave a small smile, and shrugged.

"It's my job, Miss," he replied, although he didn't look much older than she was. She gave him a small smile in return for his servitude, wishing that she had more. Such as an apology that he had to suffer the wrath of her Headmistress.

Eli followed him silently into the large building, not truly listening as he explained its past and history to her. She stared up at the huge, high Fresco ceiling with gorgeous gold moulding stretching all the way down to the polished granite floor. The place was huge and grand, like her school or the Rosings Park club, but it seemed to be a little more… well, gaudy.

"This will be your room, Miss. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask," the bell boy informed her kindly, wheeling in the luggage to a large bedroom upstairs.

"Oh, thank you," Eli muttered, breaking out of her trace. She fumbled into her pocket, and pulled out a few notes. "Here," she said, passing them to him with a smile.

"You're not allowed to do that," the bell boy informed her, staring at her palm. "You're not supposed to be tipping me, you see, Miss," he explained to her, pushing the money away.

"But I want to," she replied firmly. "Listen, you had to carry my shit all the way up here, and do it with a smile. You deserve some extra cash for that," she argued.

"But if Headmistress du Bourg found out…"

"It can be our secret. What's your name?" she asked him curiously. He blinked in surprise.

"Harvey," he managed to get out, when he had recalled his senses. "Harvey Leggett. I work here," he informed her politely, giving a small boy. Eli laughed.

"Okay Harvey, he's the thing. I don't want to learn to be a little lady – I want to just go back to my country. I don't have many friends in England, and I don't have _any _friends in this old house. So I think _we_ should be friends then," she explained. He nodded.

"What country are you from?" he questioned curiously, forgetting his 'Miss'. Eli smiled.

"Australia."

"_Wow_!" he exclaimed in surprise, his eyes wide. He looked her up and down, as if expecting to see a koala crawl over her shoulder and smile at him. "Really? But – but you don't talk like they did in that 'Australia' movie they just released," he pointed out. Eli laughed.

"Well you know how in England you have tons of different accents?" she questioned, and he nodded. "Well that's the same in Australia. You don't hear much of the accent they had on the movie, unless you're in the country. I grew up around the city and the beach my whole life, so I talk differently. I have a friend from Blacktown who has an American accent, but she's never been there before. It varies a lot," she explained simply.

"Oh… I just didn't expect…" he murmured thoughtfully. "Well, I kind of thought you were from Ireland. Or Switzerland. Or even Wales. I didn't expect…" he trailed off, not meeting her eyes.

"What? For me to talk like a human being?" she laughed.

"No, it's just… well, you have such a nice accent, and… well, you don't _look_ Australian," he explained. She shrugged.

"What's Australian? If you _really_ want to put a label on that, I guess that only the Aboriginal people would be classified as Australians. They were there _long_ before the British took over," she replied simply. He still looked nervous.

"It's just that I – I've never met an Australian, and I – I didn't know that – are they all as pretty as you?" he asked slowly, his cheeks blushing red. Eli felt her own cheeks tinge pink, and she chewed her lip nervously.

"Harvey! Wow, you womaniser!" came a playful, teasing voice from the doorway. Harvey stated immediately, turning around anxiously, his face turning pale.

"So sorry, Master Fitzwilliam. It was wrong of me. I was just showing Miss Bennett to her room," he said nervously, his words slipping quickly from his voice, growing jumbled and confused.

"If my Aunt had heard you, you'd be – _oh_."

Eli stared at the young man before her. He was tall, and quite lean, dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, a faded _Kings of Leon_ tee and an unbuttoned plaid shirt over the top of it, daggy looking converse sneakers peeking out of the bottom of his pants. He had slightly curly sandy hair that fell about his face in an unruly 'it's-my-party-and-I'll-look-like-a-tramp-if-I-want-to' style, but not shielding his pleasant looking face, his dark blue eyes twinkling brightly. He looked startled to see her, his sentence ending the moment that he stepped into view.

"My apologies, Harvey. That statement was _very_ appropriate. A bit of an understatement, really," he managed to say in slightly muted Irish accent. Taking his hands out of his pockets, he immediately started pushing his hair back and straightening his shirt with a large smile spread over his lips. "Richard James Northcliffe Fitzwilliam the Third. And you _must_ be Elizabeth," he announced cheerfully, stepping into the room, thrusting his hand out to take Eli's.

"Uhh… it's just Eli, thanks," she replied nervously, shaking his hand in return. "So… you might need a little bit more than a two week visit to become a girl, mate," she informed him slowly, looking the boy up and down at a snail's pace. Richard immediately started to roar with laughter.

"Did you hear that Will? God, she's even better than you described!" he cried out to something behind him. Eli looked up in surprise, her heart sinking just as a shiver ran up her spine.

Darcy stood leaning against the doorway, scowling at everyone, looking perfectly handsome and very irritatingly so. He wore dark blue straight legged jeans, black loafers, a grey V-neck sweater over a white shirt that brought out his eyes brilliantly, and a long white scarf wrapped around his neck carelessly, his dark hair just as wonderful as ever. He looked, once again, like he belonged at an Indie nightclub or coffee shop reading Plato as he listened to Bon Iver on his ipod. He looked more masculine than Richard whats-his-name, even though _he_ looked like he'd just crawled out of a rock concert. She couldn't believe he was there, just standing there, looking so gorgeous and so – so frustratingly so!

"Harvey, you know full well that flirting with guests isn't allowed," Darcy practically growled at the boy, who seemed to shrink in fear. He spoke to him with far more coldness than Eli would have expected. It filled her with anger that he would be so rude – just because Harvey was a bell boy didn't mean that he wasn't as good as Darcy!

"I – I – sorry, Mister Darcy, it won't happen again," Harvey stammered, lowering his head in shame. He turned in silence to Eli, not raising his eyes as he spoke. "If you require anything, Miss Bennett, please do not hesitate to ask," he muttered.

"I think that perhaps you should be attending a different floor, Harvey," Darcy snapped coolly.

"Yes sir," he replied obediently, bowing slightly, before heading quickly to the door.

"Bye Harvey!" Eli called after him, but he didn't turn back, simply disappearing down the hall. "Why did you have to do that to him?" she questioned Darcy with irritation, glaring over at him with narrowed eyes. "He was nice. We were just talking," she snapped.

"He's a servant, and he was out of his place by flirting with you," he practically growled in response, stepping into the room.

"He was _not_ flirting with me. We were just talking, and anyway, _I_ said that I wanted us to be friends," she stated pointedly in response. Richard chuckled from the sidelines.

"She's fantastic! _No_ one stands up to Will – I want to put her in a box and take her home," he almost giggled, clapping his hands together with excitement.

"You're so naive. He _was_ flirting with you, and you were letting him get away with it," Darcy responded with a cold frown. "He was supposed to bring your bags up and leave. You can't indulge the help like that," he instructed. Eli rolled her eyes.

"Whatever, Darcy," she replied, waving him off briefly, instead turning to Richard. "How do you know my name?" she questioned him instantly.

"Oh, it was your eyes," he chuckled. "Will described them to me. They're unmistakable," he explained, his own eyes dancing with amusement.

"Will? You mean Darcy?" she questioned, glancing back to the man in question, who was once again brooding in the corner, his arms folded across his chest.

"Ha! I guess that's still stuck, hey?" he replied with a laugh, turning towards his companion. "He's been just 'Darcy' for years now. I think he hates it – I'm not sure. He hates most things," he replied with an amused shrug. Darcy rolled his pale eyes in response.

"Oh, I get it. So he's like Madonna," Eli stated in realisation, her voice teasing and playful as she arched a grin.

"I think he prefers Cher – but you get the drift," he chuckled. "Me? I love the full title. It freaks the shit out of most people, especially when partnered with my usual apparel," he commented, raising his arms and lowering them in a sweeping motion, indicating his state of dress.

"Well I guess I'm just a sheep then, with my boringly uninteresting name. 'Eli Bennett' isn't as exciting as 'Richard… whatsy… whatsy… Fitz… something…'" she replied with a shrug, and a small laugh. "Umm, what are you doing here anyway?" she asked suddenly, with a slight frown.

"In the holidays my parents do a trade. I get sent here, my little cousin gets sent there. I'm too much to handle for a month strait," he explained simply, tucking his hands back into his pockets. "This is my Aunt's house – I'm Will's cousin, but I doubt that he'd have told you about me, I'm the shame of the family, you see," he continued, his eyes twinkling merrily as his grin grew.

"We should start a club," she laughed in response. "And Darcy? Are you keeping your cousin company?" she questioned, arching an eyebrow in his direction.

"I live here," he her reminded her simply, stepping slightly away from the wall. Eli felt a slight flush rise to her cheeks as she recalled that fact. He was an orphan, and he lived with his Aunt… how could she forget that?

"And what a jolly little home it is," Richard muttered sarcastically. "Seriously, Eli, you shouldn't have come. It's _dead_ boring. I have to do this shit every year – it's scoop your eyes out with a spoon dull," he informed her, strolling around the room.

"I kind of think that's _all_ of England," Eli muttered in response, picking up her bags, and starting to take them over to the wardrobe.

"Ha! Do you hate it too?" Richard laughed in response.

"More than I hate the colour orange," she replied sombrely. "Is there anything fun to do around here?" she asked Richard curiously. He shrugged.

"Uhh… do you like sport?" he questioned. She snorted in laughter.

"Beach soccer and surfing are the extent of my skills. I can do a cartwheel too, when pressured," she replied.

"Can your ride a horse?"

"You'd have to define 'ride'. Because I'm sure I could sit on a Shetland pony without killing myself, but only for a few minutes," she countered thoughtfully. "Seriously, I have shit equine skills. Give me a dog and I'm great, but anything taller than me is just scary," she informed him, tossing her large suitcase on the bed, and snapping it open, tugging out shirts and shoes randomly.

"Woah. Did you pack that?" he asked in amazement, looking down at her tangle of clothing.

"The other one was packed by Helena, our maid. This mess was my doing," she informed him simply, tossing a pair of sneakers over in the corner.

"Shit! _Where_ did you get these shirts?" he exclaimed, pulling out a few tops, all with band names scrawled across. "Can I have this one?" he asked, holding up a 'Birds of Tokyo' tee with the lead singer's signature on the sleave.

"No way! If you _really_ want, you can have one of my Paramore ones, I have three," she replied, snatching it back from him.

"_The Academy Is_? Seriously, let's get married. Who got the Beatles one for you?" he asked, pulling out another.

"That was my Dad's. He gave me a heap of really good ones – he went to _Woodstock_," she informed him, holding her Crosby, Stills and Nash shirt out proudly. "And I got _tons_ from Homebake, I've been for the last three years. I had to get a fake ID for the last two though, because they upped the age limit," she added, giving her Gotye shirt a quick hug.

"I'm stealing these," he informed her briefly, picking up a handful, reading over the names with joy. Jet, Nightwish, Silverchair, Powderfinger, Ryan Adams and Youth Group. "And hand me the Eskimo Joe one, but you can keep the James Blunt," he directed. She laughed, and rolled her eyes.

"James Blunt is awesome! I've seen him three times," she boasted proudly. Richard shuddered.

"Poor girl. How can someone who's seen Placebo and The Bright Eyes say such a thing?" he questioned in disbelief.

"Suck it up sunshine, and give me back my tops. I'll have to wander around the place shirtless without them," she scolded him, arching an eyebrow. Richard looked thoughtful for a moment.

"If I take your pants will you wander around naked?" he asked hopefully. Eli rolled her eyes and shook her head. "What if I give you five pounds?" he continued to probe.

"What, you seriously think that I'd wander around in my birthday suit for five pounds? You're delusional," she replied, pulling her shirts back from his grip.

"I tried," he sighed simply, allowing them to be taken from his hands. "Will! Stop sulking!" he ordered his cousin, despite the fact that he wasn't in his line of vision at all. He appeared to have some sort of spidey-sense for Darcy's brooding. Eli wheeled around in surprise; she had forgotten his presence in the room.

"I would advise hitting him on the nose with a rolled up newspaper. Otherwise he gets a little too frisky," Darcy said to her, stepping away from the wall, and strolling towards the centre of the room. "I hope everything is comfortable enough for you," he announced, his tone devoid of any true emotion.

"Seems perfectly adequate," she sniffed pointedly as a response, turning away from him, and opening up another bag, this one filled with about thirty different books.

"Shit. She's smart," Richard exclaimed, peering into the bag, pulling out a paperback with curiosity, and flipping it open. "'_Why exactly had he beguiled me to Zululand? I could not divine, and to ask would be worse than useless_' – this is shit boring," he declared, tossing the copy of 'Finished' by H. Rider Haggard onto the bed, and picking up another. "'_The man's appearance amply bore out his words; his manner was altered for the worse: and except for the moment when he had first_' – this one is crap too!" he cried, glancing over the title. "Jeckyll and Hyde? This was in _The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen_!" he commented.

"Don't diss my books, they're really interesting," she replied, glaring over at him. He laughed, picking up another.

"They're boring. '_You allow these people to be brought up in the worst possible way, and systematically corrupted from their earliest years. Finally, when they grow up and commit the crimes that they were obviously destined to commit, ever since they were children, you start punishing them_,'" he read aloud, his voice raised and mocking.

"Alright, you can make fun of Jeckyll and Hyde, and Rider Haggard I guess too, but if you mock Thomas More, then I'll scoop _your_ eyes out with a spoon," she threatened, snatching her treasured book from his grasp.

"Do you have any favourites?" Darcy asked curiously, finally finding the balls to step up and have a look at her selection.

"Uhh… _The Razor's Edge_, _The Awakening_, _Paradise Lost_, _The Great Gatsby_,_ Heart of Darkness_, _The Republic_ and _Utopia_, of course," she listed. "Oh! And _The Phantom of the Opera_," she added hastily.

"And do you like them just because they're well known and hailed as works of genius?" he questioned her accusingly, crossing his arms against his chest. She scowled in response.

"I love each of those books because they're brilliant. They taught me how to think, and how to feel," she snapped.

"So you're reading books to tell you how to live your life?" he asked, his accusing tone not fading from his voice.

"_The Razor's Edge_, _The Awakening_ and _The Great Gatsby_ showed me a glamorous, beautiful, flawed world, and allowed me to understand the concept of being outside of that world. Of not fitting in, and finding something else, _anything_ else outside of that to cling to," she began angrily. "_Heart of Darkness_, _Paradise Lost_, _The Republic_ and _Utopia_ didn't create my beliefs, my morals, but they helped me understand the world a little bit better. They allowed me to make my own conclusion on thought, on morals, on justice, and I made my own mind up from there. And _The Phantom of the Opera_ showed me what it's like to have a passion for something," she informed him, stepping forwards, and actually jabbing him in the chest for effect. He stepped backwards in surprise.

"Ha! She's _brilliant_!" cried Richard gleefully, clapping his hands together with excitement. "Seriously, you can come back to Dublin with me. We'll be very happy together, eating potatoes, cursing the British, singing and dancing, it'll be wonderful," he assured her.

"Do you have beaches?" she questioned him carefully, raising an eyebrow.

"Uhh… well, not ones that you could surf on, I'm afraid," he admitted sheepishly.

"Sorry, but no thanks," she answered, with a twinkle in her dark eyes. "So, umm… what am I supposed to do now? What's going on?" she questioned suddenly, staring at her half-unpacked suitcase on the bed.

"You're supposed to finish unpacking. At six each night we all meet downstairs in the front-west sitting room before dinner," Darcy stated informatively.

"Oh, it's party central here," Eli muttered sarcastically. "So if I'm not into sport, what can I do around here to stop myself going insane?" she asked curiously, directing her question to Richard. She had no desire to talk to Darcy.

"Uhh… well, I guess you could read. You _did_ bring a small library," he replied, taking another peek in her bag, his hands stuffed deeply into his pockets. "You could always just hang out with us. All we do is laze around, throwing shit at each other, pretending we're hardcore," he shrugged.

"I see you've forgotten your ban already," Darcy pointed out to his cousin, who gave a small sigh, and rolled his eyes.

"Aunt Cat wasn't serious about that, Will. It was _once_," he argued. Eli raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Uh, _what_ was once?" she questioned the two. Richard sent Darcy a withering glare, but replied anyway.

"I was err… caught… getting to know another one of my Aunt's protégé's a little better last year," he explained awkwardly, running a hand through his already slightly messy hair anxiously.

"Define 'getting to know'," Eli requested, folding her arms across her chest, and sending him a challenging glance. He shifted sheepishly.

"Umm, playing Twister. Half… dressed…" he murmured, chewing his bottom lip nervously. "Thanks, Wills, now she's going to think that I'm a pervert and won't talk to me," he snapped angrily at his cousin.

"Well for _once_ her first impressions will be correct then," he replied simply. Eli's eyes narrowed.

"Go stick your dick in a blender, Darcy," she snapped pointedly, turning back to her suitcase as Richard gave a huge cheer.

"Seriously, stand still whilst I build a shrine around you. Give me a minute to go get some candles," he instructed her triumphantly. She rolled her eyes, and couldn't help but let a chuckle escape her lips.

"Well then, you had better get lavender and lemon candles – they're my favourite," she instructed, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, and starting to sort through some of her belongings.

"Lavender and lemon? Why on _earth_ –" Richard muttered incredulously under his breath.

"That's a rather unusual scent. I would have assumed that you liked something like roses or frangipanis," Darcy threw in suddenly. Eli shot him a slightly angered glance in response, but let it go.

"Well, you really shouldn't assume," she informed him simply, pulling out her laptop and all attachments for it.

"Aw, don't worry about him. He's a little annoying, but easy enough to deal with," Richard countered, throwing himself dramatically on the bed, and starting to go through all of her band shirts. "So lavender, hey? Kind of an old granny scent. Do you really like it?" he questioned curiously.

"I got used to it. It keeps away spiders and scorpions," she explained simply, with a light shrug.

"Scorpions? You had _scorpions_?" he exclaimed in horror.

"Mainly in the summer. But only small ones. It's the spiders that freak me out," she replied, sliding off the bed, and beginning a search for a plug for her laptop. "I've got _horrible _arachnephobia. When I was seven years old, I put on my jumper so I could go outside for a walk, and I felt something crawling inside of it," she started to explain, resting on her stomach, and slipping under the bed to reach the hidden plug.

"I'm not liking this story," Richard announced, sounding somewhat disturbed.

"What happened?" Darcy questioned, his voice filled with curiosity, and possible… concern?

"There was a huntsman stuck inside. It crawled all up my arm, up my back, on my neck, I was screaming my head off," she said calmly. "They aren't poisonous, but they're damn frightening. I was practically pissing myself," she explained, wincing slightly at the memory. "Anyway, I used to have spider deterrents everywhere. Lavender, lemon, chestnuts, it was crazy. But there's hardly any here," she added, brushing down her jeans as she rose to her feet.

"Crap. Australia is _not_ sounding like a barrel of laughs," Richard muttered. Eli laughed out loud.

"It's great, the only issue is that most things want to kill you," she chuckled. "You've always got to be careful. On land it's not so bad, mostly just snakes and spiders, but it's when you're in the _water_ that you have to _really_ look out for yourself," she explained.

"I can defend myself against a shark," Richard boasted proudly, a smug grin appearing on his features. Eli laughed.

"Uhh… it's more than just sharks. You've got to look out for blue bottles, blue ringed octopi, box jellyfish, irukandji, stone fish, sting rays, puffer fish, scorpion fish, _and_ the sharks," she informed him with a grin. "Oh, but the most _dangerous_ of all is the drop bears," she added suddenly, her eyes twinkling playfully. Richard frowned.

"What the hell is a drop bear?" he questioned doubtfully. Eli pulled her legs up beneath her body, preparing to tell the tale.

"Well, you know koalas, right?" she questioned, and he nodded. "Drop bears are _like_ koalas, but there're a few differences, you see," she began, her tone growing serious. Richard shifted nervously.

"So some kind of koala-bear mutant is the most dangerous animal in Australia? Even more than all those horrible sounding things in the sea?" he questioned incredulously, glancing over to Darcy with a slightly concerned expression. Darcy's face was emotionless, his eyes fixed on Eli.

"Of course they are! You see, most koalas just eat gum leaves, right?" she continued, as Richard nodded slowly. "Well, the _biggest_ difference between a koala and a drop bear is that drop bears are carnivorous. Their teeth are much sharper, kind of like a cat. But they're still really lazy, and don't move around all that quickly," she explained. Richard gave a slow nod. "So in order to get their food, they have a really… unique hunting style," she continued, her lips twitching with laughter. She caught a glance of Darcy in the corner of her eye; he too was hiding a smile. Richard looked somewhat concerned as she continued. "They drop onto their prey from above, and rip apart their heads with their teeth and claws," she informed him soberly.

Richard turned pale. "No. You're shitting me. No _way_," he stated, sounding rather unconvinced himself.

"Listen, you can go on thinking that I'm lying, but one day, if you ever travel to Australia, you had better wear a helmet when you're walking in the bush," she warned sternly. Richard shifted uncomfortably.

"Fuck no. That's crap, you're full of it," he tried to assure himself, looking rather horrified as he surveyed Eli.

"I hate to be the one to break it to you, Richard, but you've never been to Australia. There's no way you can be sure about that," Darcy threw in, his pale eyes dancing with laughter that she had never seen in them before. It made him look all the more attractive.

"You're both shitting me. It's a conspiracy," he stated firmly, standing up, his jaw set. "But just in case – I'm _never _going to Australia. Sorry Eli, we'll just have to live in Ireland and make babies there," he sighed, flashing her a cheeky smile. She rolled her eyes.

"I think I'm going to like you, Richard whatsy-whatsy-whatsy-name," she said decidedly. Richard beamed.

"Well, I have that effect on women," he boasted. Suddenly the laughter died from Darcy's eyes, and it was replaced with the same coldness that had flickered there whilst he spoke to Harvey, the bell boy. "Oops, sorry Wills. Keep forgetting," he muttered cheerfully, giving his cousin a small salute, before turning back to Eli. "Listen, we _really_ shouldn't be here. Well, mainly me. I just couldn't resist meeting you," he informed her cheerfully. Eli frowned slightly in confusion. "But we'd better go. We'll see you at dinner. Try and stretch some of those shirts out so I can wear them, okay?" he requested, eyes twinkled, before he gave her a wink, and headed to the door.

"I hope you enjoy your stay here, Elizabeth," Darcy murmured simply, and with a quiet nod, he was gone with his cousin, the door closing swiftly behind him.

Eli let out a long sigh and sat down on the edge of her bed, clutching her copy of _Utopia_ to her chest.

Two weeks living in the same house as Darcy? She didn't know how she was going to survive.

~ * ~

Charlotte's hands were trembling nervously as she brushed her raven hair back, desperately trying to flatten her frizzy mass of wiry curls. Sighing, she pulled forth a gorgeous Louis Vuitton scarf from her top draw, and tied her locks back with it, before straightening her blouse.

"Charlotte, come down stairs at once! The Collins are here! They're on the drive! Quick! Quick!" she heard her mother squeal from downstairs.

With one last childhood-destroying layer of lipstick, Charlotte took a deep breath, adjusted her headpiece, and headed downstairs in silence.

"There you are! Now go sit in the lounge room with your father, hurry! Oh, how _splendid_! To think, my daughter, to be Mrs Colin Collins!" her mother gushed, leading her daughter quickly into the sitting room as the Collins' large car rolled up the driveway. "Hopefully you'll only have to court until you've finished school. Then you can get engaged! Oh, and by the time Colin is finished at College and starting his job you'll be trying on gowns and sending out invitations!" she squealed excitedly. Charlotte gave a small sigh, but took her seat as her mother rushed back into the kitchen.

She sat down silently, obediently, staring at her feet.

She hated Colin Collins, truly, she did.

But she was beginning to wonder if she was ever going to have any more choice.

~ * ~

"Is she eating enough, do you think? I know that Doctor Penn recommended her an iron supplement, is she taking it, George? You know what's good for a young body? Porridge. And tea. Hot tea and honey, but not _too_ hot, and the porridge can't be _too_ hot either, George."

"Nonsense Daddy, Doctor Windsor said that she needs more vitamin C! _Oranges_, Daddy, _oranges_!"

"I think she just needs a change of scenery. What about sending her back to France? Could she stay with her grandparents again? I know that you and Sophia made the decision to live in England, but perhaps she needs more sun?"

"_Sun_? Jon, Doctor Windsor says her complexion is too delicate!"

"I must agree with Bella, I think she needs to stay right where she is."

"George, how has she been lately? Do you think she should stay with you for another month?"

"A month? I was thinking that she comes back home for next term. She's been going well with George. She needs to stay with him as long as possible."

"What about she spends the next two weeks with George, and then the last week of the holidays with you, Henry?"

"Oh, but we're not going for another month! Do you think she'll be able to handle spending so much time around Harrison?"

"Darling, I'm sure she'll be fine. She loves Harry."

"I wonder what Doctor Penn would say about that… are babies good for teenagers?"

Emilia allowed the voices to drown out to a soft hum as she rocked her nephew gently in her arms, singing him a quiet little lullaby that her mother had sung to her.

"_À la claire fontaine,  
M'en allant promener  
J'ai trouvé l'eau si belle  
Que je m'y suis baigné _

_Il y a longtemps que je t'aime  
Jamais je ne t'oublierai..."_

_"_Did you know that your mother used to sing that to you?" she heard a voice suddenly question.

"Yeah," she smiled in return, allowing George to step closer, a small smile gracing his lips. He sighed, taking the baby from her arms, and rocking it softly in his, looking like a complete and total natural.

"She told me once, when you were small, that her mother had sung it to her, and she hoped that one day you would get to sing it to your own baby," he added, holding Harrison so his head rested against the crook of his neck.

"Probably not going to happen. I'm going to be a scary old cat lady, remember?" she laughed in response, casting her eyes outside to the frosty winter's night.

"You can hear them talking about you, can't you," he stated, his tone leaving no doubt that she could.

"I stopped listening when they were discussing my living arrangements. If you could just leave me a note when they've finished deciding my life, that'd be great," she muttered, stepping out towards the window, and leaning against the wall.

"They're just concerned. We all are," George sighed in response. Emilia turned her head slightly, with a small grin, and raised an eyebrow.

"Really? Wow. I never would have guessed," she replied dryly, turning her gaze back to the scenery which lay before her.

"Listen, Em… It's okay to be –"

"George, please," she requested suddenly, wheeling around to face her companion with an unreadable expression. "I have no desire to talk about it, to hold hands in a group and sing songs about grief, I'm _fine_," she assured him firmly. "I don't need help. Other people in the world do, but don't waste your time on me," she instructed.

George sighed, and nodded in silence. If she didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't force her. But he knew full well that it was going to destroy her, it would only be a question of when.

"Listen, I'm going to go for a walk. I need to think for a little bit, okay?" she informed him tiredly. He gave another short nod, and she moved to walk past him, her arguing sister, brother-in-law and father not even noticing her disappearance.

"Harry, I think I'm going to need you to look out for her. She might be a little more than I can handle myself," he sighed softly, patting the young boy's soft mane of pale blonde hair back.

He gave a small laugh at a thought that just crossed his mind. It felt like only yesterday _she_ was resting in his arms.

**A/N: Sorry I couldn't update last night, fanfiction was being weird. But I will update tomorrow night as well to make up for it :D I don't have time to answer questions in this author's note, because I'm supposed to be studying for my French exam tomorrow, but I'll try to answer them next chapter, so have no hesitation to ask :D**


	16. Dreams and Nightmares

_"__We belong together, _

_Like the open seas and shore_

_Wedded by the planet force,_

_We have both been spoken for__,"_

_ -Gavin Degraw, 'We Belong Together'_

_Elizabeth's hair flowed serenely around her body in dark rivulets, swimming over her ivory skin as the waves gently caressed her beautiful body. _

_"See, I told you. It's a beautiful world out here," she sighed dreamily, floating on her back as she stared up at the crystal blue sky, laughing serenely. He smiled at the image she presented._

_"I'm just glad that you managed to convince me. I'd probably still be stuck at that boring Valentine's Day ball if you hadn't," he replied, gently treading water to edge closer to her._

_"Hmm… I know. But this is perfect. No more Mum, no more Dad, no more Jasmine or Rosings Park or stupid boys trying to flirt with me," she commented with a smile, allowing her eyes to flutter to a close. _

_"Not one of those idiots my Aunt and your mother tried to set you up with were worthy of you," he reminded her firmly, allowing his hand to stray up her back, to tangle in her long curls. "Not __one__. I should have just told her that __I__ was going to be the only one, no parade of men for you to put up score cards on," he continued, watching a lucky little droplet of water roll over the wonderful hills and valleys of her chest, only to disappear into her bikini top. _

_"I knew. All along. I knew that __you__ were going to be the one," she assured him, gazing up at him with her beautiful green, grey and amber eyes behind coal lashes. "Our life is __so__ beautiful now – and it's all because we found each other. It's all because we could __leave__ that stupid place, now we can love each other, and no one has to tell us what to do," she said softly, moving to treat water beside him. The long white beach stretched out behind her, crystal blue waters enveloping them. _

_"I love you," he whispered to her softly, pulling her into his arms, pressing his lips to her mouth as she uttered the same statement. She tasted sweet and slightly salty, like liquid heaven. Her mouth was warm and welcoming to his long, slow kiss, eyes fluttering to a close, hands twisting in hair, her body pressed against his. _

_"Come on, Will," she whispered against his lips, gasping for breath. "Let's go back up to the house. Get out of these wet clothes," she murmured playfully. He felt a chuckle rumble in his chest in response._

_"Couldn't have said it better myself," he responded, his voice deep and husky. "Should we start now?" he whispered, his hand running up her back, and untying the strap of her bikini top. She giggled against his mouth in response. _

_"Will! Someone might see!" she exclaimed, but her tone was not one of objection. _

_"Then let them see. I don't care, I have you, Elizabeth. __Nothing__ can ruin this," he replied softly. Her eyes shone with adoration, and she pressed her mouth immediately against his, allowing him to lead them up to shore with his strong legs. Her long damp hair covered her bare chest, her bikini top lost somewhere in the waves. _

_Taking her hand, he began to lead her up the beach to their home, pushing the door open quickly, pulling her into a kiss the moment that they stepped into the threshold. She gasped in surprise and approval as they slammed against the back of the door. _

_"William…" she moaned softly in response to his kisses. "William… Will…"_

_"Will! Wake up, you tool!"_

_William groaned miserably, covering his head with his hands as his dream shattered, Richard's laughter ringing out through the bedroom. _

_"Fuck off," he muttered tiredly, extremely bitter for the loss of his wonderful fantasy. He shifted uncomfortably; he had always hated sleeping on his stomach. _

_"Sorry about that, did I disturb your sweet, __sweet__ dreams of one Elizabeth Bennett?" Richard teased gleefully, his irritating face lit up with a wide smile. He clapped his wide hands together, practically skipping with amusement. _

_"Bugger off. Go take your Ritalin," he snapped in return, rolling over on his side so he could face away from his cousin. _

_"I shan't! I don't have to till after dinner," Richard boasted in response, jumping atop the bed in a burst of energy. William groaned in irritation, clasping one of his silk covered pillows over his head to block out his relation. "Speaking of which, we need to go downstairs for the before-dinner pleasantries," he added. William muttered a curse beneath his breath. _

_"Fuck off. And tell Aunt Catherine that I've died," he snapped in return. Richard laughed loudly, bouncing off the bed, and back to the floor. _

_"She'd __still__ drag you downstairs," he reminded him teasingly. "But at least you'll get to see your beloved, you know," he threw in, pulling open William's closet door, and stepping inside, peering at his clothes curiously. _

_"She's not my beloved," William snapped, sitting up, and running a hand through his already quite messy dark hair._

_"Ah, but the things you were moaning in your sleep would suggest as much!" he called back in response, pulling out a navy and blue woollen cardigan. "Seriously man, you could get clothes like this for about a fraction of the price. My mate Graham has a jumper __identical__ to this, and it only cost him fifteen pounds," he cried from the wardrobe, holding it up against his body. "Calvin Kline? You know, you must spend a __lot__ of money making yourself look like a broke bohemian," he threw in, putting back the cardigan, and selecting a pair of dark grey linen trousers from Armani. _

_"Leave my clothes alone. I don't trust you touching them, not now that I know what you do to your socks," William scolded in response, sliding off the top of his large, four poster bed, with silk burgundy sheets and Egyptian cotton duvet, searching around the sea of sheet music, books and expensive knick-knacks that littered the floor for his shoes. _

_"My socks are extremely satisfied, thank you," Richard responded, stepping out of the wardrobe, wearing one of his cousin's scarfs wrapped carelessly around his neck, his hands shoved back into his pockets. "You know, Eli's really fit," he pointed out casually, watching his cousin pull on his loafers. William said nothing in response, but the flicker of something foreign in his eyes told his cousin that he didn't exactly object to the statement. "So what's she like?" he questioned curiously. _

_"You met her a few hours ago," he replied dismissively, not looking up from his feet. _

_"I know, but you've known her for months, you must get her better than I do," he pointed out. William gave a small sigh of irritation. _

_"Different. She's not vain or self-obsessed, I get the feeling that she's not the kind of person to do what she doesn't want to do," he answered slowly. "She's absurdly clever, but she doesn't let on about it, she doesn't care about intelligence, just about feelings, and music and passion. She really seems to hate being put in a box. I think that's why she's so reluctant to let people know she's smart," he explained. _

_"She seemed pretty clever, when we spoke," Richard agreed, experimentally tugging on a strand of his sandy blonde hair, and starting to plait it for no reason at all. _

_"No. You didn't get the half of it," William dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "She's already finished her high school graduation last year. She gets full marks in all her subjects. It's like she's so smart that she doesn't see the __need__ to even try with some people, she's contented to let them walk away with the wrong idea about her because she's above that kind of narcissism," he explained, his voice giving away his affection for her. _

_"So she's smart __and__ pretty. You're lucky mate, the full package," Richard commented, sneering slightly at his attempted plait, starting to detangle the strands. "Listen, she seems pretty great. A real live-wire. But don't just fall for her because she's good looking and clever, there has to be more than just that," he advised. William gave a short sigh. _

_"It's more than that, Rich. She just…" he trailed off thoughtfully, searching for words. "She's mad. About life, about her music, about __everything__. She just seems to… burn. Brighter than anyone I've ever seen before," he explained, his voice incredulous and delicate. He spoke with a kind of passion that was usually only restricted to musical discussion. "She never says or does anything boring or insignificant, she just… __burns__," he murmured finally. _

_Normally a very quiet, and stoic young man, Richard knew full well that the sudden change in his cousin's behaviour had to be down to an external influence. _

_One Elizabeth Bennett, to be specific. _

_"Mate, you're pretty deep in it," he informed him seriously. William rolled his eyes. _

_"Richard, you know how I feel about Elizabeth. I care for her, and I won't deny that," he admitted simply, rising up to his feet. _

_"Then go get her! Tell her how you feel!" Richard urged him in response. William firmly shook his head in reply. _

_"Listen, we have an understanding. The feeling is mutual, I know. Do you see the way she blushes and gets all fidgety when I'm around? We __both__ want something from this," he replied. "But I don't see the point in just jumping into this head first. After all, Aunt Cat wants this, her mother wants this, and __we__ want this, so we might as well just wait so it can all be arranged properly," he reasoned sensibly. Richard raised an eyebrow._

_"You mean let Aunt Cat and her parents arrange your marriage, and just go right along with it?" he questioned doubtfully. William nodded. "Ahh… are you sure that that's going to be the best idea?" he asked tentatively, digging his hands back into his pockets, his tone quite serious._

_"Well why not? I want to marry her more than I've ever wanted anything else, and it'll suit everyone," he replied with a shrug. "This way we don't have to over-complicate the situation. We'll let her parents and Aunt Catherine plan our marriage, and we'll just go along for the ride. Everyone gets what they want, and we don't have to worry ourselves with the details," he rationalised. "All that __we__ have to do is move to Pemberley so we don't have to put up with her __ridiculous_ family. And then we can spend the rest of our lives together in peace," he concluded simply, running his hand over his dark mop of hair to smooth it out.

"Yeah, but do you _really_ think that Eli would let her parents arrange a marriage for her?" he probed sceptically, one eyebrow raised in doubt.

"Well why not?" William shrugged. "I mean, I love her, Richard. More than music. And I know for a fact that she wants to be with me, she asked me to go to _Australia_ to be with her, not to mention the way she acts around me," he explained. "She's new to this. She's very inexperienced, but I think that the fact that we can be together for the rest of our lives would override any of those built in rebellion instincts," he rationalised simply, with one final shrug.

"Just… be careful. Don't assume too much on her part," Richard tried to advise him. William rolled his eyes, and stepped over a copy of one of Bach's symphonies lying on the floor to the exit of his bedroom.

"I'm not assuming. I know," he replied confidently, pulling open the door, and stepping out into the hallway.

Richard sighed. He just hoped that his cousin didn't run into battle without even a sword to protect himself, because it was very likely that he was going to get hurt.

~ * ~

"Sit up."

"I _am_."

"Don't talk back."

"I'm _not_."

"You just talked back, right then!"

"_Lies_. Lounge room of _lies_."

"What on _earth_ is that nonsense?"

Eli threw her warden a sharp, bitter glance as she pulled down the sleaves of her oversized chunky cream cardigan, shuffling her sneaker clad feet together over the highly polished hardwood floor, shifting uncomfortably on the ornate chaise lounge.

"It's a figure of speech," she retorted pointedly, glaring at a particularly ugly little rosette pattern on the ridiculous sitting room carpet.

If she twisted her head slightly, and squinted, it almost looked like Francie's screeching face…

"Well it's a very _silly_ figure of speech," Headmistress du Bourg snapped in response, straightening her position on the couch. "You need to learn how to dress appropriately for dinner. And I want you to burn every pair of jeans you own – they're disgusting, common things," she added curtly, looking over Eli's attire with a sneer.

"They're comfy," Eli retorted, rolling her eyes, and slumping back in the chair, casting her gaze out the window.

"They're hideous. I'll not have you publicly shame yourself in them," she snapped, glancing up just as her nephews stumbled into the room. "You're late," she informed them coolly. Richard looked rather smug, and Darcy simply looked as closed off as ever, stepping into the room, and taking up a lounge near to Eli's.

"Willy was having a nap, I had to wake him up," Richard replied cheerfully, practically skipping over to Eli, to sit right next to her, unnecessarily close.

"Richard! You can't sit so close to a woman that you have no understanding with!" scolded Headmistress du Bourg.

"We met earlier, Auntie," Richard informed her calmly, with a slightly patronising tone. Eli's respect for him instantly grew as she tried to hide back laughter.

"And _how_, might I ask, did that occur?" she questioned coolly, raising one perfectly sculpted black eyebrow. Her cold dark eyes took in their guilty faces intently.

"In the hall, when she arrived, Aunt. We introduced ourselves, traded war stories, bitched about the how the British stole our countries and caused minor anarchy," he informed her cheerfully. Her lips practically disappeared as she pursed them into a sharp frown, sending an evil glare at her nephew, who seemed oblivious to her disapproval.

"Richard, you should be ashamed of your behaviour. I have no intention of allowing you to corrupt Miss Bennett," she informed him pointedly. "Trade places with William. At least _he_ shows proper respect," she directed in her strict tone, indicating his new place with a twist of her wrist.

The two boys reluctantly changed places as a timid little maid brought in a tray bearing ridiculously delicate floral teacups and a matching little pot. Darcy said nothing as he took his place beside Eli, but she could practically feel his irritation radiating from his body.

"Now Elizabeth. You'll also be taught how to serve tea during your stay," Catherine announced suddenly, in a voice quite louder than necessary. The maid shook and trembled as she poured hot honey coloured liquid into the little tea cups. "There is a proper art to serving tea. It's a tradition that goes back hundreds of years. Your husband will expect you to know how to do this task elegantly and without mistake, so pay close attention," she instructed. Eli snorted sarcastically and rolled her eyes, but in the clutter of cups and spoons, her headmistress didn't notice.

"Seriously, Auntie, she's _way_ too young to get married," Richard objected, noting his new friends dislike of the concept. Catherine sent a sharp, pointed glare to her nephew, as if cursing his entire existence, not just his small interjection.

"Her suitor has already been selected, Richard. She shall be engaged by Christmas. Had you any objections, you should have voiced them earlier," she replied coolly.

Eli felt her throat constrict tightly, her chest tightening and her face instantly blanching.

"What the _hell_?" she exclaimed angrily. "I'm _sixteen_! I thought this was all some sort of game to you! I don't _want_ to get married!" she cried, her eyes wide and afraid. She edged back into the lounge, her mind racing. Was that why she was at her Headmistress' home? Was that why Francie had stopped forcing so many guys on her? Who the hell _was_ her 'suitor'? She had absolutely _no_ desire to get married!

She almost jumped out of her skin when she felt Darcy's warm hand gently press against her arm in a small, quiet, calming action. Somehow she felt her heartbeat slow back to its usual pace. She didn't turn to meet his eyes; she didn't know how she would feel when she did. Instead, she tried to calm herself down.

_You're not getting married_, she reminded herself. _If they DO set you up, you can just go back to Australia_. _It's not legal; they can't force you to get married anyway_. _Don't worry, just go along for the ride, it should be amusing_, she tried to instruct herself.

"Elizabeth Bennett, you _need_ to learn to use more appropriate language to adults," snapped Catherine angrily. "And _yes_, we have selected the most likely candidate to be your suitor, but it's not set in stone quite yet. And even so, you'll need to finish your education before marriage," she declared pointedly.

"Oh great. Thanks for allowing me to go to University before I'm shackled to someone I don't know, and don't _love_," she retorted spitefully beneath her breath.

"University is a possibility. Perhaps not. Men don't like their wives to be too educated," she countered. Eli bit her tongue in anger and frustration.

"I'm _going_ to University," she snapped coolly.

"What are you going to study?" Richard asked suddenly, breaking the tension in the room. Eli felt Darcy's hand return to its natural place, by _his_ side, not on her arm. She angrily cursed herself for wishing that it hadn't.

"I'm not sure yet. Probably literature or music, or maybe philosophy," she shrugged, when she had regained enough clarity to respond. She stared at her shoes with determination. All thoughts of marriage and University fled her mind. She could still feel the warmth of Darcy's hand on her arm, and she wished like crazy that it was still there. Her entire body was humming with warmth from his touch.

She hazarded the smallest glances in his direction, before casting her eyes immediately back to her feet. His intense gaze was once more fixed on her. His eyes burned into her head, as if she could see them without even needing to look at him.

"Elizabeth, how do you take your tea?" she heard a voice question sharply, with a tone that she had been repeating the question several times. She looked up to see her Headmistress glaring at her with irritation, the maid waiting patiently to fix her a cup of Earl Grey.

"Uhh… I'm not that big on tea," she managed to throw out. After a disdainful look from Catherine, and a nudge from Darcy, she practically growled out 'milk, two sugars' through clenched teeth. She was trying to focus on anything _but_ Darcy.

"Tea is an essential beverage in the life of a young lady. You will do well to note this," Catherine announced coolly, taking a sip from her own dainty little cup, pinkie extended and all. "Are you a coffee drinker, then? Eroding your insides with caffeine?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow expertly, as if she had been practising her belittling in front of the mirror since her gangly teenage years.

"Some kinds of tea have just as much caffeine as coffee does, ma'am," she retorted, crossing her arms against her chest, and sending her Headmistress a challenging look. "And I'm much more of a Milo and milk kind of girl," she added, slouching back into the uncomfortable chaise.

"_Milo_? What on _earth_ is 'Milo'?" Catherine questioned her incredulously, spitting out the noun like it were some kind of sour lemon, her eyebrows burrowing together as she contemplated the foreign word.

"It's a malt powder that you put in milk," she replied bluntly, glaring at her ridiculously ornate teacup, wishing for it to magically transform into Milo instead.

"Well it sounds _vulgar_. Now drink your tea," she snapped curtly in response. Eli sent her a withering glance when she turned away, and reluctantly took up her cup. Sipping it slowly, she felt a familiar tingling sensation run down her spine.

Darcy looked away from her instantly the moment that she turned her head, however, Richard gave her a quick grin and a wink as he relaxed into his armchair, inspecting his nails with false interest. She glanced between the two of them in curiosity. They were so different to each other, how could they possibly be related? There was a certain physical resemblance, the formation of their features; however, Darcy was definitely much more attractive than Richard. Their hair seemed to have the same sort of slight curl to it, despite the differences in shades, and she guessed that if Darcy were to ever smile, it would only increase their resemblance.

She just wished that Darcy could suddenly develop Richard's personality. Richard was funny, charming and easy to get along with, engaging a definite positive emotional reaction from him; however, Darcy was cold and distant. But still, whenever he was around, she couldn't help her physical attraction to him.

Richard glanced at this strange new girl curiously. William had described her to him, of course, but words didn't really seem to come close.

She was a strange sort of attractive. Some would call her plain, some stunning, but there was definitely something unusual about her. He had _no_ idea of her origins. He knew that the majority of White Australians were descendants of the British, but there was something else that he just couldn't put his finger on. But it was more than her nationality, it was like William had commented, she just seemed to _burn_. She had this aura around her that just glowed with life and strength.

He felt the slightest little pang of jealously. Elizabeth Bennett was clearly a pretty damn good catch, and yet she was his cousin's intended. How was it that his cousin got the beautiful, clever, vibrant young woman from a well-off family and suitable social position? Why couldn't _he_ land a girl like her?

He felt a smile threaten his slight frown when he noted the way that William looked at her. He had this sort of breathless, incredulous expression of wonder and enchantment as he gazed upon her profile whilst she reluctantly sipped from her teacup. He wanted to snort with laughter as his cousin's eyes traced over immodest curves on her body, hidden by layers of clothing, but not undecipherable. He himself had to admit, that for a sixteen year old girl, she sure had some pretty womanly attributes… His cousin had taste. Elizabeth Bennett was most certainly a prize.

"Tell me, Elizabeth, what kind of tea do you serve to your husband in the mornings before work?" Catherine questioned sharply. Eli rolled her eyes.

"Earl Grey with a hint of cyanide," she responded coolly.

"An English Breakfast – that was a very simple one. You should be ashamed," she snapped in cold response.

"Sorry, I fell asleep in last weeks 'English doormat' class," she replied sarcastically, with a roll of her eyes.

"And what kind do you serve when he has returned from a hard days work at the office?" she probed further, narrowing her cold gaze. Eli sighed in frustration.

"If the poor guy has to come home after a hard day at the office and deal with _me_ punching his fucking lights out for expecting me to make him tea, he'd probably need something a little stronger," she reasoned in a slightly angered tone, setting down her cup, its brown contents spilling onto the lace doily, staining it as a symbol of rebellion.

"Wrong again. Elizabeth, you really _must_ learn to control your temper," Catherine snapped in a severe tone.

"Stop controlling my life, and I just might," she grumbled bitterly beneath her breath. Richard stifled a chuckle with the back of his hand, but after a cold glance from his aunt, he returned to slouching in his chair and plaiting his almost matted blonde locks.

"So Eli. Tell me about the great land of Oz," he requested suddenly, in a remarkably chipper voice. Eli shrugged, having heard the question so many times that it was practically infuriating.

"Well, it's really diverse. And way warmer. And way more relaxed," she replied simply. "I spent a lot of time on the beach, lathered in sunscreen of course, because Jay got all the good genes from the parentals and I got the shit European skin ones," she continued with a tiny shrug, ignoring Catherine's angered glances in her direction.

"Who's Jay?" Richard questioned curiously, frowning slightly at the new name.

"Oh, my eldest sister. I have three, Jay, Lyla and Kate. I'm the youngest," she informed him. He gave a small hum.

"No brothers? Your poor old man," he commented, dark eyes twinkling. Eli rolled hers in response, and was about to throw him back a sharp objection.

"Daughters are never of any consequence to fathers. It's a shame that you haven't any brothers, to carry on the Bennett name," sniffed Catherine dramatically.

"Well if I ever get married, I'll keep my name," she responded coolly, crossing her arms against her chest. Catherine's eyes widened in shock.

"_If_ you ever get married? Elizabeth, _when_ you get married, you _will_ take your husband's name!" she cried in objection. "If there are no sons in a family, then it's the _eldest_ daughter that can choose to hyphenate her surname, not the _youngest_!" she exclaimed.

"Headmistress, I can do whatever I want. And I have no desire to get married, but if I _did_, then my husband would have the mental capacity to understand my reasons for keeping my own name," she replied slightly stiffly in return, watching as Catherine's face slowly turned red.

Eli was pissed off. Already her time at her Headmistress' home looked like it was going to be a complete and total waste of time. She could easily list a million things that she would _rather_ be doing – but there was no convincing Francie! She had refused to see sense; she had refused to let her own daughter make her own decisions.

"_That_ is a very poor attitude, Miss Bennett," the grand woman snapped pointedly. Eli rolled her eyes. She had no patience for the woman.

Dinner was a particularly painful affair. It consisted of about five courses – only two of which were edible, very little discussion, and _far_ too much instruction on the correct way to hold cutlery.

"There is a very simple rule to remember when identifying which knife, fork or spoon is used for each meal, Elizabeth," Headmistress du Bourg stated, halfway through the last course, consisting of sorbet and raspberries. "Begin from the outside in. Your cutlery will be arranged to that rule," she informed her. Eli felt her jaw drop.

"You mean I sat through a ten minute lecture for using my desert spoon in my soup for _nothing_?" she exclaimed incredulously. Richard snigged in the background.

"It wasn't for nothing, Elizabeth. Only an invalid uses a desert spoon in their soup," she woman responded coolly. "Now. It is traditional that the men stand for the women to leave the table, and everyone convened in the dining room for tea and coffee," she stated.

"How about an anvil…" Eli muttered beneath her breath, standing up.

"Elizabeth! You must wait for the gentlemen to stand first!" Catherine burst out angrily, but Eli only rolled her eyes and walked right out of the dining room. The woman gave a huff of frustration. "William, go see to her. That young girl is _far_ too free-spirited!" she demanded angrily.

"I'll do it, Aunt. Will still hasn't finished," Richard volunteered excitedly, jumping up from his chair, and rushing after Eli.

He found her outside on a balcony, resting against the stone banisters, staring out onto a glassy pond.

"Hey," she greeted, casting her gaze over her shoulder in his direction when she heard him approach, before her sparkling hazel eyes returned to the scene before her.

"You smoke?" he questioned, stepping beside her, and holding up a pack. She shook her head. "Good for you. I've been trying to quit – Aunt Cathy always makes it harder though," he replied with a small laugh, lighting up a cigarette hanging from his lips. He took a long breath in, before exhaling.

"That'll kill you, you know," she commented warily. He chuckled.

"Probably. I used to do it because it was cool – now I can't stop," he informed her with a lopsided grin, and a small shrug. Taking another drag, he sighed. "So what's the story with you and my cousin?" he asked curiously. She frowned slightly, watching a white swan float over the lake serenely.

"I've never seen a white swan, you know," she informed him suddenly. "I've seen plenty of black ones, but never a white one. They're really beautiful," she muttered.

"Uh… Eli? I didn't come out here for bird watching," he chuckled. She gave a small laugh.

"Yeah, I know. It was just my way of avoiding the question," she replied with a shrug.

"Don't want to talk about it?" he questioned, and she replied with a nod.

"I'm not in a very talkative mood. I just want to go home," she informed him simply.

"Well, hey, that's understandable, but… I mean, _I'm_ here," he replied. She snorted with slightly sarcastic laughter, shaking her head.

"Do you take up two seats at the movies with that ego of yours?" she questioned him teasingly. He gave another chuckle.

"Nah, I'm the kid at the back, scratching my name into the wall with a pocket knife," he informed her cheekily. "So… what's up with your Mum, sending you here then?" he questioned after a short pause. She shrugged.

"Francie is a few sandwiches short of a picnic. It's her life's goal to set her daughters up with rich, well connected men," she explained. "I'm the family disappointment. I'm not beautiful and obedient like my older sister, I'm not naïve and content to follow anyone blindly like the twins, I'm… a freak," she informed him simply. "I talk back, I constantly disobey her, I like music, not shopping, and I'm not in the least bit interested in marriage. What she's doing right now gets me out of her sight for two weeks, and increases my chances of being shackled to a man that I don't know or love, so she never has to see me again," she sighed.

"Wow. Shit, your Mum sounds like a cow," Richard commented. She nodded.

"However, that's being really mean to the cow. I've always liked the term 'harpy'," she replied thoughtfully. Richard grinned.

"Meh. You turned out okay to me," he informed her. She hid a small grin.

"You clearly don't know me that well then," she retorted. He chuckled, and snubbed out his cigarette on the stone banister, flicking it onto the grass.

"I reckon we'll get along. We just have to keep out of my Aunt's way," he replied cheerfully. "Come on then. We'd better get inside, it's not fair to leave poor Willy alone with her," he declared, linking their arms, and leading her back into the house.

**A/N: Umm, yeah, sorry that I updated late… I'm kind of in the middle of exams, so I wouldn't expect regular updates for a while. I'll try to get on Saturday morning, and see if I can put up a chapter then, but that's not certain. These are my final year eleven exams before I go into my last year of school (ahhh!) so I'm really trying to make sure that I get good marks. Sorry about that, especially considering it's going to be the run up to the 'proposal' and everything, but there isn't much I can do. I only came online to print off some notes for my next exam, and your reviews were too much of a temptation for me! And once again, I have no time to answer questions, but I can give you a sort of timetable of when I'll be getting online. **

**Saturday 15****th**** of August – Chapter 17**

**Monday 17****th**** of August – Chapter 18 (when Eli first finds out about engagement)**

**Thursday 20****th**** of August – Chapter 19**

**Saturday 22****nd**** of August – Chapter 20**

**And hopefully by that Monday I will be able to resume my usual schedule. I have tried to fit in time as best I can, but these are big exams, so sorry :S**


	17. Meeting over Music

"_He's in my way, and no surprises,_

_It's been a day, somehow survived it,_

_Still I'm trying not to want to hurt him,_

_Trying not to start this up again_"

- Diana Aniad, 'Last Thing'

"Come in," Eli called out, upon hearing a knock on the door. She didn't glance up from her suitcase; certain it was going to be the third maid that her Headmistress had sent in to 'assist' her in the task of unpacking.

"Hey," she heard a deep, familiar voice greet. She rolled her eyes, but then glanced up to see Darcy awkwardly looking around her room.

"Hey," she replied, before turning back to her open suitcase.

"Need some help?" he questioned offhandedly, closing the door, and stepping forwards.

"I'm just unpacking," she informed him simply.

"Two people makes it go faster," he responded, grabbing a shirt from her open bundle of clothes, and folding it in his hands, before passing it to her.

"Thanks," she muttered, putting it in the drawer.

"Not a problem," he answered, picking up another. "So… What was your old town like?" he questioned awkwardly, after searching for a safe topic. She shrugged, clumsily folding up a navy cardigan.

"Well… it was as coastal town. We always had a lot of tourists, so I was always meeting a bunch of really interesting people," she began slowly. "But when the holidays were over, it was nice and quiet. I could walk up to the shops, the beach was thirty seconds from my house, and it was surrounded by these huge mountains with more trees than you could ever imagine, so it was great for bushwalking," she continued. "There weren't a lot of kids, because it's an expensive area, so most of the people there were retired couples. We moved there when I was about… well, nine or ten years old. We used to live in Sydney," she informed him. He nodded, and passed her another shirt to put in the drawer. "Francie loved having the biggest house in town. She was _always_ so smug, so it was always cleaned within an inch of its life," she explained, rolling her eyes at the thought of her mother's fanatical need for perfection.

"Sounds nice," he muttered. She nodded, a small smile creeping over her face.

"It was perfect," she sighed. "It's taken me a while, but I think I've kind of – well, I don't think I'll be moving back there anytime soon," she muttered.

"Given up on running away?"

"No, I've just postponed my plans. I'll go back to Australia as soon as possible, but only for a little while. Then I'm going to go and chase a few fallen stars," she laughed, her dark eyes twinkling. Darcy nodded slowly, folding up the last shirt in the suitcase.

"I was thinking that maybe… well, you're going to be here for two weeks anyway," he began slowly. Eli hazarded a glance at him as she picked up the next suitcase, and clipped it open. "Well, I know that you got into the musical, and I know that you want to play Christine. I thought that we could continue working on your singing, but much more full on. If I helped you practise for a few hours each day, you'd have no competition for the role," he suggested. Eli stopped her movements. "Your voice has incredible potential. But you're not there yet, and in order to sing Christine, you _need_ to be," he added.

"What's in it for you?" she questioned, her eyes narrowed. He looked slightly surprised, but once more hid it with his cool mask of disinterest.

"It's a win-win situation. I don't want to sing with Clare. You aren't as clingy as she is – you get the role, I get a bit of peace," he explained. Eli thought on his suggestion for a moment.

She _did_ need to practise her singing, and she knew that she could improve…

But that would involve spending more time with _Darcy_.

But she'd get the better of Clare for trying to stop her from auditioning.

"Alright. I'll practise with you," she decided finally. Darcy nodded, and picked up a nightgown from her suitcase, hanging it up in the closet. "You know, most of this stuff is folded up already. Helena got to it before I could," she informed him.

"Richard is doing something disgusting in the room next to mine. The walls are pretty thin," he informed her simply. Eli raised an eyebrow laughingly.

"He's your _cousin_. You're supposed to like him," she pointed out. He shook his head firmly, grabbing another item of clothing to hang up.

"He's good in small doses. Anything more is just painful," he answered. "Besides. You smell nicer than him," he added. Eli felt a tiny flutter in her chest at hearing that. It wasn't even a _compliment_, but it still… well, it was kind of nice. In a way that it shouldn't have been. "_Sure_ you didn't pack a few things in this one?" he questioned, holding up a Disney Princess nightgown that seemed to have found its way in there. Eli's cheeks instantly blushed bright red.

"I told you, Helena did that," she objected sharply, trying to grab it off him. He pulled back, his pale eyes twinkling, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

"So I won't comment on those then, shall I?" he questioned, pointing towards a pair of Sesame Street pyjamas in the midst of silk nightgowns.

"I'll give you twenty pounds if you _never_ speak of this again. Not that I _need_ to pay you off, because _I didn't put them in there_!" she countered, her face bright red.

"Sorry, not a chance," he retorted, hanging up her nightgown, and crossing his arms smugly against his chest.

"Name your price then, Darcy," she countered, mimicking his stance.

"You couldn't afford my price for silence on _anything_ in a house where Richard is staying," he replied complacently. She rolled her eyes.

"Oh yeah? You eat chocolate?" she questioned. He looked thoughtful.

"In this house? Rarely. My Aunt refuses to eat anything with an ounce of sugar in it," he informed her.

"Hmm. So would that mean that you'd be interested in what I have in this bag?" she questioned, pulling up a reasonably large Elizabeth Arden cosmetics bag, and unzipping the top. It was filled with chocolate bars, marshmallows, and lollies of every nature.

"You have my everlasting silence," he promised her. She grinned smugly, and tossed him a bag of starburst gummies and a mini pack of tim-tams. "What's this?" he questioned, looking at the tim-tams curiously.

"You've never eaten a tim-tam?" she questioned incredulously.

"I've never seen them before. Did you bring it from Australia?" he asked curiously.

"Dorr _loves_ them. He orders a box each week from the manufacturers in Australia," she answered, shaking her head in disappointment that he had never before experienced the brilliancy of a tim-tam. "Ever eaten Vegemite?" she probed, arching a sculpted brow exprertly.

"Is that another chocolate thing?" he asked, opening the tim-tams.

"It's a spread that you put on toast and sandwiches," she explained. "I don't have any here – but you should try it! You should have at least _heard_ of it!" she argued. He shook his head. "You're kidding me. _We're happy little Vegemites as bright as bright can be, we all enjoy our vegemite for breakfast lunch and tea, our mummy says we're growing stronger every single week_," she sung in a playful voice. "_Because we love our vegemite, we all adore our vegemite, it puts a rose, in every cheek_!" she finished lightly.

"Nope. Never heard of it," Darcy replied, trying to hide the laughter from his voice.

"That's our bloody national _anthem_!" she cried incredulously. He frowned.

"Isn't it 'Advance Australia Fair'?" he questioned curiously.

"Figure of speech. But _every_ kid knows that song!" she exclaimed. He shook his head.

"Not me, I'm afraid," he said simply, with a light shrug.

"Well what about 'Aeroplane Jelly'?" she questioned. He shook his head. "Well I'm not singing _that_, but seriously, you need an education in Australian culture," she informed him seriously.

"Probably," he replied, taking a bite from the tim-tam. "Wow. This is actually quite nice," he muttered thoughtfully.

"We Australians are pretty good at supplying the world with awesomeness," she boasted proudly. Darcy gave a small chuckle, chewing the chocolate biscuit thoughtfully.

"Uh… When school starts again, I was wondering if you might like to… maybe sometime… go out –"

"You have _real_ food and you didn't _tell_ me?" a booming voice came from the entrance to her room. Richard was leaning against the door, grinning at the scene before him. Eli tossed the Elizabeth Arden bag in her suitcase and shut the lid.

"No. _My_ food," she said sternly. Richard pulled a miserable face.

"But _he_ gets some!" he objected, trying to steal a biscuit from Darcy, who pulled away.

"I helped her unpack, and I'm going to be giving her singing lessons. The best _you_ can do is teach her how to roll skunk," he snapped. Richard's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"You think I'm on _skunk_? Oh come off it, you _know_ that if I did anymore illegal shit Dad would take away my car," he defended himself. Darcy rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. I'm not covering for anything else even _slightly_ against the law, and I'm not sharing," he replied pointedly.

"You know, this is going to be interesting," Eli commented suddenly, sitting down on the bed and glancing between the two. "I've never stayed in a house with boys. Dorr is the closest thing – and he's sixty," she added.

"You certainly won't be missing much, we're pretty much pigs," Richard informed her dutifully. "Well, except him. He likes sterilizing things," he added thoughtfully, glancing over to Darcy, who rolled his eyes.

"Only when _you've_ touched them, Richard," he responded coolly.

"Oh Will, the love is almost tangible," Richard commented dreamily in response.

"Go away."

"Why? Gonna show Eli your cute little scar?"

"If you stay I'll give you a not-so-cute scar."

"In the same place as yours? _Really_? Because I didn't think you swung that way, Willy," Richard responded cheekily.

"I swing only _one_ way, not like you, Mister Pendulum," he threw back in defence.

"He doesn't hate me because I'm bi, he hates me because I'm an annoying little shit," Richard assured Eli. "He's not homophobic. He fully accepts that the gay community find him just as repulsive as the straight, so he's not threatened," he explained, his eyes twinkling. Eli stifled laughter.

"Are you really bi?" she asked curiously.

"Well, not quite. If my sexuality was out of ten, one being straight, ten being gay, five being bi, I'm more like a four. Possibly three point eight," he explained thoughtfully. "Will is more like a negative fifty. He's so straight you could build a bookshelf off him," he informed her.

"That's great. Discuss my sexuality like I'm not here," Darcy muttered sarcastically.

"How about you, love? Got one foot in the closet?" Richard asked her pleasantly.

"Umm… I like boys," she assured him quickly.

"Ah, but I always say that you can't decide unless you've dipped your feet in both sides of the stream," Richard threw in, a smirk playing on his lips. Eli shook her head firmly.

"Nope. Shoes stay on. Not touching the 'stream', perfectly content to use the bridge," she said hastily. Richard raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Ah, would that imply that you haven't had a dip in _either_ side of the stream?" he probed teasingly. Eli blushed bright red.

"I'm straight. I like boys. End of discussion," she replied firmly, dark eyes flashing. Richard chuckled.

"Me thinks she doth protest too much," he muttered cheekily. Eli rolled her eyes.

"Whatever. Are you boys going to move into this room, or leave me in peace with my unpacking and F. Scott Fitzgerald?" she questioned teasingly, grasping a paperback sitting on one of the many little tables embellished with floral lace doilies.

"Nope!" Richard cried triumphantly, leaping onto the surface of her bed, curiously looking through her suitcase that lay open atop it. "What's _Frankie_?" he asked curiously, raising an eyebrow as he started to flick through a magazine.

"It's a magazine in Australia. It's really good, not like any of the Girlfriend or Dolly crap," she informed him, placing her hands on her hips.

"Maybe we should just leave him here. We could get started on your singing instead," Darcy offered, before she could continue speaking to Richard. She sent him a small glance, and frowned, before giving a tiny sigh.

"_Fine_. Richard, if you mess up _any_ of my stuff, you _will_ be killed," she informed him sternly, before reluctantly following Darcy out into the hall. "Hey, where are we going?" she asked curiously.

"My room. I have a piano there, and we won't be disturbed by my Aunt," he replied simply, pulling open one of the doors in the hallway, and allowing her to step in first.

It was very large, and quite open. A _huge_ black Steinway took up a great deal of the room, and littered around that section of floor were piles of sheet music in no particular order. He had several guitars sitting on stands in the corner, not to mention a cello, his violin, drum kit and an _extremely_ fancy looking keyboard. The walls were lined with painted silks over soft padding to eliminate any sound from escaping, in a particularly beautiful shade of burgundy that surprisingly didn't overwhelm the occupants. He had two doors; one she assumed led to his bathroom and one to his wardrobe, not to mention several bookshelves, a large writing desk, and a _huge_ four poster bed with rather expensive looking sheets. It was a little disorganised, but very… Darcy.

"Nice room," she found herself commenting. He shrugged in response, putting the biscuits and lollies on his bedside table.

"It serves its purpose," he replied shortly, heading over to the bookshelf, and taking out a familiar book of sheet music.

"Are you a Lloyd Webber fan too?" she asked curiously, peering over the titles. He had _Cats_, _Evita_, _Jesus Christ Superstar_, _Aspects of Love_, _Requiem_, and just about every other musical she had ever heard of, not to mention all the classical and popular music she saw there also.

"Clearly," he said simply, as if distracted, walking over to the piano, and sitting down. He placed the book on the stand, and then glanced to her expectedly. "So should we start with _Think of Me_?" he questioned.

Eli gave a small frown. Already she felt annoyed at him, but walked over to the piano regardless.

"Whatever. I can sing most of it already – but the last bit is kind of hard," she informed him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Stop doing that. And it shouldn't be too hard, the highest note you have to hit is a C over high C," he shrugged. She rolled her dark eyes.

"I _love_ how you say that like it's the easiest thing in the world," she muttered sarcastically, reluctantly uncrossing her arms, and adjusting her standing. "Whatever. Let's just – warm up," she decided finally.

Four major arguments, one screaming match, and an attempted shoe-throwing incident later, the two had made it past the first verse.

"Your transitioning is _weak_!" Darcy argued angrily, one step away from hitting the piano in frustration.

"I told you, let me just sit down and work through it for a _minute_!" she demanded in response.

"What the fuck is _that _going to achieve? We'd be playing the _exact same thing_!" he responded with growing frustration. "Just sing the ascending scale section again, and _this time_, don't mess up going from E to D! It's a _simple_ one tone descent!" he cried.

"Why the _hell_ are you being such a perfectionist about _one_ little tone? I sung the rest of it _fine_!" she argued.

"But you messed up the beginning of the descent! That throws of the rest of the piece!" he responded. Eli groaned in irritation.

"You're so _pathetically_ anal about that _one little thing_!" she snapped.

"Just sing it again, okay?" he demanded, turning back to his piano.

"I told you, I want to do the ending!"

"Well if you can't do a _one tone_ transition how the hell do you expect to go from the C to the E flat in the last bar?" he questioned her angrily.

"God! You're such a bloody –"

"Just _sing_, Elizabeth!" Darcy snapped finally, bursting into the opening of the song, ignoring her complaints. Reluctantly, in the third bar she came in, and in spite, shoved her perfect transition in his face at the end of the verse.

"_There_," she snapped, when he stopped playing. She waited for him to concede that she had hit it, so they could discontinue their argument. Instead, he started into the next verse.

It was about an hour later until they got to the ending.

"We'll go through it slowly first, and then the original speed," he informed her in a clipped tone.

"Sounds great," she practically spat back. She was sick of his constant abuse of her singing, making her feel like a complete and total invalid that had never sung a note in their life.

Measuring her breaths perfectly, as he had taught her, she slowly went through the scattered ascent of notes that was the last four bars. Finishing it on the high C, she took another breath, before Darcy started it again, this time at the original tempo.

When they had finished, he didn't speak for a moment, simply shuffling the sheet music, skipping through pages to find the next song.

"Hang on, aren't you going to shout at me? Correct me? Tell me where I screwed up?" she questioned in surprise. He glanced up at her momentarily.

"Would you _like_ me to?" he asked doubtfully.

"I – I – _no_, but I just thought that you –"

"You sung the ending fine. Would you like to contest that, or are you happy enough to go onto the next song? _Angel of Music_ isn't as hard as _Think of Me_, but we had best go through it regardless," he answered with slight sharpness.

"Umm… okay…" Eli muttered with a slight frown. Why had he not shouted at her? Had she really sung it up to his impossibly high standards? She chewed her lip as Darcy continued to flick through his sheet music, running her hands up and down the strings of the open grand piano. "So… your little sister lives here too?" she questioned curiously. He glanced up at her momentarily, seeming slightly confused, or possibly suspicious of her concern.

"Only on weekends and some holidays. She goes to a boarding school a few hours away from here," he answered. She nodded slowly.

"Clare seems to like her. She said she was pretty nice," she commented suddenly.

"She is," he replied simply.

"Is she friends with the Bingley family? Close to any of them?" she probed. He raised an eyebrow, and glanced over her face questioningly. She chewed her lip nervously. She wanted to find out of his little sister was really involved with Char – something in her said that Clare's story was just pure crap, and whilst she had no proof, she was determined to seek it out for the sake of her sister's happiness.

"Yes, she's friends with the family," he replied. Eli inwardly cursed. He wasn't answering her unspoken question!

"So what's Char doing these holidays?" she questioned lightly. Darcy's eyes narrowed.

"I would have thought you'd be content with Richard for these two weeks, or can't you survive without being surrounded by boys?" he snapped angrily.

"What?" Eli exclaimed in confusion. "What on earth are you _talking_ about?" she questioned incredulously.

"So how many is it so far? There's Christian Thompson-Ruperts, Fraser Aylmer-Higgins, Cole Pelton, Victor Hortence, Rory Merie, Colin Collins, oh, and let's not forget Gershom Wickham," he listed bitterly.

"What are you going _on_ about?" she questioned, frowning in complete and total misunderstanding.

"Are you trying to add Char to your list of eligible gentlemen? Haven't picked a suitor yet from your cast of thousands, all lining up in front of you?" he snapped cruelly.

Eli bit her tongue, and glared at a small, reasonably neat pile of sheet music on the floor, not really seeing it. She had no idea why hearing Darcy reveal that he thought ill of her was so – painful, but his accusations stung harsher than she would like to admit.

"I didn't mean it," Darcy muttered finally, after realising that she had taken offence from his words. "Let's just – you should probably come in on Meg's part, and then go back into Christine's," he announced, any emotion disappearing from his voice.

"You're a wanker."

"I'm sorry?" Darcy questioned in shock, meeting her darkly flashing eyes with his wide, surprised ones.

"Did you hear me stutter?"

"And what exactly qualifies me as being a wanker?" he asked her coolly.

"Well, Darcy, I'm not exactly sure," Eli began sarcastically, tapping her chin with mocking thoughtfulness. "How about your blatant disregard of my feelings? How could you just speak to me like that? Like I'm a fucking piece of scum on your shoe?" she questioned him angrily.

"Well your behaviour around those men left something to be desired," he snapped in defence.

"See! You really _are_ a wanker! Open your _fucking_ eyes Darcy – I didn't encourage any of them!" she cried in angered response.

"You encouraged Gershom!" he objected.

"Where you dropped on your head as a baby or something?" she questioned incredulously, before shaking her head in frustration, running her hands through her dark curls. "Whatever. You're a wanker. If you can't take it, don't hand it out," she snapped in a finalising tone.

"Where do you get off calling me a –"

"Really, Darcy, after she's _just_ called you a wanker, using the phrase 'get off' is probably not appropriate," a voice came from the entrance to the room. They both looked up; once again, Richard had made his silent entrance. "I could hear you two arguing down the hall. You're lucky that Auntie lost her hearing just before her two-hundredth birthday, or she'd be up here as fast as her spite-fuelled body could carry her," he informed them, stepping in casually, hands buried in his pockets.

"I'm going to bed," Eli declared suddenly.

"What about the song?" Darcy questioned with irritation.

"Well I'm sure someone as infinitely talented as you could find something to entertain yourself, Darcy," she snapped, not even glancing over her shoulder. "Try singing something by _Pink_, that should improve your mood," she threw back sarcastically, before disappearing from the room. The moment she had gone, Richard burst into laughter.

"What was she talking about?" Darcy wondered aloud, with great confusion.

"She means the song '_U and Ur Hand_' by Pink, in reference to the earlier 'wanker' comment," Richard informed him with a smirk. Darcy's eyes widened in surprise.

"I don't know why she was so upset! She _knows_ that I don't like all those 'suitors' her mother has picked dripping off of her," he muttered. Richard sighed, and leant against the side of his cousin's piano.

"Listen, Darce, the thing is, I don't know if you two are both on the same page," he stated calmly. Darcy frowned in confusion.

"Of course we are. She asked me to go to Australia with her, Richard. She practically swoons every time I touch her," he snapped, closing his book of sheet music.

"Fine, maybe Eli likes you too, but I'm getting a different vibe. For example, the whole storming out of the room didn't seem like a sign of her unadulterated lust," he pointed out. "Maybe she _is_ into you. But she's pissed off with you too, so I'd leave her alone for a day or two. Let her cool off," he suggested. Darcy rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"It has nothing to do with you," he snapped.

"Well you're going to drive her away if you keep on being a wanker whenever she's around," Richard retorted pointedly, glaring down at his cousin with his dark blue eyes.

"I'm in love with her, Richard. She's all I can think about," he stated sharply. "Do you _really_ think I'm going to do anything to push her away?" he questioned, with slight irritation.

"Fine. Whatever. But you've got a lot to learn about treating a girl right," Richard snapped, before storming out of the room without another glance back.

Darcy angrily slammed his hands over the keys, a clanging discordance ringing around the room. Richard was right, to a degree.

Maybe he just needed to be a little nicer to Elizabeth for a while.

Breakfast was very quiet the next morning. Headmistress du Bourg's sharp eyes travelled around the table, trying to detect the reason for the uncharacteristic silence.

"I see that without Richard, you two haven't a word to say to each other," she commented stiffly. Eli raised her head in surprise, being startled from her thoughts.

"The rain was very loud last night. I guess Elizabeth found it difficult to sleep as well, Aunt. I can imagine we're both tired," Darcy replied in his usual formal manner. Headmistress du Bourg nodded.

"Are you not fond of the rain, Miss Elizabeth?" she questioned her charge suddenly.

"Sure. That sounds like a plausible thing to say right now."

"This is ridiculous. You two are both very clever, educated young creatures, surely you can have a conversation with each other concerning something other than _weather_," she snapped, when silence filled the room once more. Eli pushed her breakfast around her place almost moodily.

"Why are there sausages on the table?" she asked suddenly.

"What?" questioned her Headmistress in confusion.

"Well before we would eat toast or muffins or yogurt breakfast, and now all of a sudden there's sausages and tomatoes on the table," she exclaimed.

"It's Sunday."

"So?"

"On Sundays most families eat a full breakfast. _This_ is a full English breakfast," she explained.

"Oh," Eli murmured suddenly, staring down at her plate. "Yeah – on Sundays, I eat Wheat Bix. I eat Wheat Bix every day though," she commented thoughtfully. "But I just don't get eating sausages at breakfast. It seems wrong," she added.

"It depends on the kind of sausage," Darcy announced suddenly.

"I hate sausages."

"Then that probably contributes to your dislike of them as a breakfast item," he conceded simply.

"NS, Sherlock," she retorted, pushing her poached eggs around her plate.

"I thought we could work on your singing again today, Elizabeth. Perhaps get started on _Angel of Music_ like we intended before," he stated after a brief pause. Eli glared at her breakfast plate.

"Fine," she murmured finally.

So it seemed, she thought to herself, that they would continue on as before.

"Doesn't she just look _so_ pleased?" Mrs Lucas commented smugly, her cold eyes greedily taking in the image that her daughter and suitor presented from across the room.

"To have a daughter engaged at eighteen is all well and good, I suppose," Mrs Phillips replied, sipping her tea. Mrs Lucas' face fell as the women's attention turned back to Francine Bennett.

Angelica Lucas _hated_ Francine. Before Francine had come along, she was the second in command in the Rosings Park Women's Society, the second to be served her tea (after the great Catherine du Bourg, of course), she was Catherine's 'go-to' woman. Being one of the more… experienced members of the group, she was able to offer maturity and wisdom to their discussions.

But no, ever since _Francine Bennett_ had turned up, with her beautiful Loungbourn Avenue home, highly paid husband, four beautiful daughters, the eldest with her stunning beauty and impressive dancing skills, the youngest with her incredible intellect, and amazing musical talent, not to _mention_ the fact that they were all Australian – everything had changed. Francine was beautiful, wealthy, and had _impeccable_ taste, and what was more – she was _new_. Fresh blood. Oh yes, old money had its perks, but there was so little of it to go around that there was a new trend, and Francine Bennett had come riding on the wave of it.

Suddenly, it was _Francine_ who was being served the second cup of tea. It was _Francine_ who was Catherine's closest confidant, it was _Francine_ that had her daughter in line for some of the finest catches in the district – and it wasn't _fair_!

"So has Elizabeth picked a suitor yet?" Mrs Long asked Francine eagerly. The younger woman smirked, and sipped her tea.

"How could she? Too many to pick from," she replied smugly. The women surrounding the table sighed wistfully.

"Francine, you know full well that there was never any 'choice', simply decoys," Catherine interrupted. The other women silenced themselves in awe.

"Really? Could it be?" Mrs Phillips whispered to her companion.

"Ah yes. I'm so thrilled, Catherine. I know that they'll be the _perfect_ couple," Francine sighed.

"Indeed. I've been watching them very closely – their attraction to each other is undeniable. It's time that the family has some fresh blood in it – and Elizabeth has always held a soft place in my heart," Catherine declared. Angelica wanted to snort. The woman _had_ no heart. "She reminds me of myself at her age. I too was slightly impetuous, but anyone who has seen her marks, or spoken with her for even the briefest of conversations, cannot deny the potential of that young girl," she continued.

"So it is to be your nephew then?"

"Of course. It was always to be my nephew."

"And when do you make the announcement?" Mrs Long questioned, her voice almost hushed with excitement.

"When I last spoke of him about the match, he wished for it to be done as quickly as possible. He's eager for it to occur, and growing rather impatient. I've reminded him that there is still the engagement period, which will last at least a year, of course, but he is still wishes for it to be announced as soon as possible," Catherine replied.

"I'm quite certain that Elizabeth already knows. He might tell her, or she might just guess. She'll be thrilled though, I saw them dancing together the ball, the attraction is undeniable," Francine threw in. "They're out riding today, but they'll find out soon enough. Catherine and I have already agreed that they'll be engaged as soon as the school year is out," she added.

"It would be _so_ splendid to have a daughter married, and at sixteen, too!" exclaimed Mrs Phillips.

"But surely Dorian disagrees? You've said that she's his favourite – wouldn't he want to keep her with him?" Angelica questioned, almost desperately. She couldn't have it! Not _Elizabeth Bennett_ married before her darling Charlotte!

"Oh, Dorian doesn't care. He's given up on her – she doesn't want to be a doctor, and that's all he wants her to be," Francine replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "And anyway, they won't be married for at least a year after, I'd rather wait till she were eighteen, he'll have plenty of time to adjust to the idea," she added simply.

"She'll study music at Oxford with William. I have connections to get them into the London Symphony Orchestra – they're both going to be stars," Catherine announced. Angelica's face fell.

"Such a shame about Char Bingley breaking up with Jasmine, though," she added, hoping to retrieve her desired reaction. Francine's eyebrows raised in astonishment.

"They were never together, Mrs Lucas," she replied almost stiffly. "No, Christian Thompson-Ruperts is growing quite fond of her, and his family is _much_ better off. He's _far_ more suitable for Jay," she added.

Angelica's heart fell as she came to the realisation that even pressuring her daughter into a marriage with a boy she had no affection for wasn't going return her tea-spot to her.

"_Every night before I sleep, I get down on bended knees,  
And I pray, and I pray, and I pray, I pray  
That I'll never wake from dreams, where you were mine  
Sleep 'scapes, takes me back into time,_

_Cause she'll never be you_"

-Snob Scrilla, '…...' (the song with no title)

"Ladies, as sorry as I am to interrupt you, we had better get going if we want to beat the delivery guy to my apartment," George announced, strolling over to Taylor's desk, his hands buried in his pockets.

"Can't we just eat here? Tay doesn't get to go home for _ages_!" Emilia exclaimed, sending George one of her perfected pouts. His heart stopped momentarily in his chest – but he was so used to it that it hardly bothered him at all. He returned her pout with an apologetic grin.

"Sorry Em, but you aren't helping diminish that pile of work Tay has to finish," he pointed out. Taylor sent him a small, thankful glance from behind her purple framed reading glasses. As much as they both loved Emilia, they knew that she was sometimes a little tiring.

"But she needs a break!" she objected.

"She works for _your_ father. Do you _really_ think he would deprive her of the necessary 'twelve hours of sleep' that she requires?" he questioned. Emilia sighed in annoyance, and slid off her father's personal assistant, and her close friend's desk.

"Oh _fine_," she muttered, flipping her blonde curls over her shoulder. Pressing a quick kiss to Taylor's cheek, she reluctantly followed George out of the office, and into the elevator.

"We really should stop bothering Taylor. She's going to snap sometime soon," he pointed out, pressing the ground floor button on the elevator command pad.

"Nonsense. She loves me," Emilia retorted firmly, her pale eyes twinkling. George hid back a snort of laughter at her comment. "Oh _hush_ you, she _does_," she objected, whacking him lightly in the stomach. A familiar jolt reverberated around his body, but he ignored it. He was very used to the feeling – it came about every time they touched.

"Oh, of course, Em," he replied, rolling his dark eyes teasingly, and leaning against the walls.

"Oh! I forgot to ask, how did your date go the other night?" she asked curiously. He stiffened immediately, recalling the disaster that had occurred.

"Ahh… Rachel and I aren't going to see each other anymore," he admitted finally. Emilia raised a questioning eyebrow at his reply.

"Why? You've been going out for almost a month now! She seemed nice!" she exclaimed in surprise. "And pretty, too. She was _really_ pretty. I thought you were going so well! Did she turn out to be a complete bitch?" she questioned sympathetically. George lowered his head, staring with determination at his shoes. He never liked discussing women with her. He was worried she would see the pattern.

"No, it was my fault. We just won't be going out again, that's all," he replied, in a finalising tone. She pulled a sympathetic look, and patted his arm comfortingly.

"That's okay. But I thought this one might last you at _least_ two months, you know," she replied teasingly. He faked a small, amused smile, but said nothing.

He had liked Rachel. She wasn't as attractive as _her_, but then again, few were. She was nice, pleasant, reasonably well educated, and had a good sense of humour. But he had once again found a new way to screw up a blossoming relationship.

He had tried to convince her that it was a slip of the tongue, but he knew otherwise. After all, 'Rachel' and 'Emilia' were two completely different names, and to say the wrong one at the wrong moment… He hated himself. He didn't even have the courage to drag himself back to his apartment, not after what he had done, because _she_ would be there, waiting for him. Instead he drunk away his sorrows in some seedy old bar that he couldn't even remember the name of. He didn't deserve anything better.

"Hey! It's alright, I'll be your date to the prom, if you're so desperate," she teased him. He chuckled, a genuine smile returning to his lips. He knew there would be no more discussion of Rachel. They very rarely discussed the women he dated, and more recently, it had been almost not at all. It was a very blurred zone.

Sometimes he wondered if he only dated the endless lines of beautiful women to prove to _her_ that he was stronger than the curse she had put over him.

"Because _that_ doesn't make me feel even _more_ pathetic," he replied sarcastically, ruffling her curls playfully as they exited the elevator.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out," she said honestly, as they were walking out towards his car. In silence he unlocked it, and climbed in. Emilia wondered if he had heard her at all, until he finally spoke when they had been driving for about ten minutes.

"She wasn't the right girl for me," he admitted finally. Emilia turned to glance at him in surprise. He was staring at the road ahead with determination.

"You say that like you had someone else in mind," she replied.

To that, George didn't reply. Or at least, not so she could hear him.

"I do, Emilia," he whispered quietly, pausing outside her bedroom door on his way to his room. He felt the familiar, almost unbearable ache of unrequited love tear through his chest once more. "But that doesn't help me at all," he murmured, before sighing, and continuing forth to his room.

**A/N: Yay! I managed to get onto the computer tonight and edit this chapter for you guys, and thank you for all the lovely reviews and well-wishes for my exams, fingers crossed that I go well! **

**Oh, and I got my first proper flame! It was terribly exciting, I'm not taking it down because it makes me laugh. Is that weird? Well, I'll put the review up here, because it's actually pretty amusing. So this is the review from the flamer, who identified themselves as 'someone really pissed off'. **

"**Ok, I'm a middle class White Briton myself, and I must object. Life isn't like this! For ** sake, do your research better, OK?**

FIRST POINT!

Sure, the girl's gifted. Fine! We get that! But as a Gifted and Talented person myself, I can say from EXPERIENCE that it doesn't and SHOULDN'T take up that big a role in a person's life!

NEXT POINT!

Like I said, I'm a middle class White Briton. I went to a private, exclusive boarding school; my parents all move in the upper echelons of society; I'm expected to earn good money and eventually marry well should I choose to ever tie the knot. BUT LIFE IS NOT LIKE HOW YOU DESCRIBE IT IN THE STORY! Unless, of course, you come from an aristocratic background. In which case, things may differ ever so slightly. But you're deluded.

The story is seriously getting on my nerves with all the outdated customs. Get a grip. No-one is THAT deluded, unless of course, they're American "old money" brats from Boston or someplace like that. Oh, and did you forget that forcing a marriage is illegal? So your character's parents and headteacher and anyone else attempting to coerce her into marrying her "intended" could all go to prison.

For ** sake. Do your research. And shut the ** up."

**Well. Right, first thing, it is lovely to hear that you're a middle-class Briton. I always like to hear information about my readers. This isn't actually set, however, in middle-class British society, rather upper-middle class, or possibly upper class. I know most reviewers got it, and I do apologise if you missed it – but I'm using a technique called 'social commentary'. As you have identified yourself as a 'gifted and talented person', I assume you can comprehend such things as hyperbolic exaggerations of the setting, characters and culture relating to the context in which it was written in, for example, my personal perspective on social interactions and customs in the so called 'upper echelons of society'. I am very sorry that it is expected that you shall marry well, that must make the process of falling in love rather difficult for you, but I do hope that you find someone you care for, and not simply marry them for money. I would never want to marry for just money, that would be such a sad existence!**

**I would now like to draw your attention to the address bar of your screen. Please highlight the word 'fiction'. Next, take into account that **_**this story**_** is fanfiction. And that I wasn't implying the outdated customs are what would happen normally, they're not, and I fully understand this. I **_**know**_** that you can't be forced to marry someone. Have you seen anyone been forced to get married yet? No one will be dragged to the alter in this story, and there will be no marriages taking place against anyone's will. **

**And it's pleasing to know that I'm deluded. I always thought I was Evie, but I suppose you learn something new every day. **

**Now, two things. You came dangerously close to insulting Americans there, and there is one thing that I can **_**not**_** tolerate, and that's discrimination. I'm not American, but if you **_**dare**_** say anything insulting to any racial/national group in any review to me, I will take it down immediately, and ask that you don't read my story. I don't want to cater for people that find it acceptable to insult others with blind prejudice. **

**The last thing that I really want to point out is that Eli is not entirely the result of my imagination. Her experiences are based off mine in connection to her label of being 'gifted'. And if you can say that being gifted doesn't have a great effect on your life, then I honestly don't believe you are (that and your review doesn't really suggest such a thing). I've been through a lot of crap in my life because everywhere I go I'm introduced as the 'special' kid – and it is not your place to make assumptions about other people's experiences. There are other readers who know what it's like to be secluded and bullied for being different, and you're being disrespectful to them. You can criticise my writing, my storyline, my characters, but you have no right to say what you said in that review. You obviously don't understand what it is to be an outsider if you assume that being gifted doesn't have that much effect on your life. **

**Oh, and I don't believe that you're parents move in the 'upper echelons of society', because middle class isn't really any sort of upper echelon. And the statement 'my parents ALL move in the…', yeah, why did you say 'all'? And why did you feel the need to affirm to me that you are middle class so many times? WOULD SOMEONE LIKE A BISCUIT FOR THAT? *gives flamer a cookie and pats their head patronisingly***

**Finally, thank you for making me laugh. The thought passed my mind that I should be insulted, but… I don't know. I just didn't feel it. I'm angry that you were being rude to others, but it doesn't bother me very much that you think I'm deluded. Maybe I am. This is a world of make-believe after all, and I didn't ask you to read this story. As a matter of fact, this story was voted for, and everyone knew it was going to be an arranged marriage situation when they voted, so… yeah. Blame them *shakes fist at lovely reviewers*. **

**Well, until I can get to a computer again! Thank you for all your kind reviews, and I apologise for the long author's note and my horrible rudeness in having my amusement at the expense of the flamer! I'm assuming that they are vain enough to return to see if I reacted, so the message probably got to him/her. Tootles! I love you all!**

**PS: x19x, that was so brilliant! You deserve a happy meal for that! But don't bother with the flamer, he/she was just upset about something, and I think they need a hug. And I hope you have a really good holiday! I've always wanted to visit Wales – enjoy yourself there, and I'll try to have as many chapters for you to read as possible when you get back!**


	18. The First Feelings

"_You keep on denying, who you are and how you're feeling  
Baby, we're not buying, hon, we saw you hit the ceiling  
Face it like a grown-up, when you gonna own up  
That you got, got, got it bad?_

_No chance, no way, I won't say it no, no,_

_Give up, give in, check the grin – you're in love,_"

-From the Disney movie Hercules, 'I won't say it'

"No."

"It's not going to hurt you."

"It's fucking _giant_!"

"It's the smallest one on the entire estate, Elizabeth."

"That's easy for you to say, Darcy, you're ten bloody feet tall!"

"Ha! Take off your pants, Will, maybe this flattery could work to your advantage."

"Richard, if you _want_ to keep all your external reproductive organs, I would advise that you _shut the hell up_."

"Testy, isn't he? Oops – pardon the pun."

"You two are disgusting."

"And sexy."

"Just disgusting."

"Just sexy."

"God! Boys are _so_ frustrating!" Eli cried angrily, throwing her hands up in the air with exasperation. Glaring at her two companions, she turned to leave the stable, into the crisp spring morning.

"Elizabeth, it's not going to hurt you," Darcy repeated sternly, grabbing her arm, and pulling her back towards the stall.

"Uh, I'm sorry Darcy, it's the size of a four wheel drive, with huge bitey teeth and fifty giant kickey legs, and eyes of pain and hate!" she snapped, trying to pull away from him as he practically dragged her towards the stalls.

"It's _fine_. Listen, we'll both be going out with you. You can pick any of these three, they're all very gentle," Darcy informed her calmly. Eli stared between each giant equine with doubt and fear. In the first, stood a large chestnut with a rich, gleaming coat, in the second, a gentle looking palomino with friendly brown eyes, and in the last, a tall dapple grey with a braided tail.

"You pick. Make sure it won't hurt me," she muttered, unconsciously backing into Darcy's chest as she stepped away from the gentle creatures.

"Well what about the dapple? It's called Storm. Somewhat fitting, don't you think?" he commented, pointing towards the last stall. Eli stared at it doubtfully, before glancing at the others.

"Hmm. Why don't you take that one? It's called Pansy. Somewhat fitting, don't you think?"

Richard burst into laughter at her comment, clutching his sides as he practically rolled on the straw covered floor.

"You take Pansy. She's probably the gentlest," Darcy muttered, rolling his eyes at his cousin's amusement. "Come on then, I'll show you how to do the tack," he announced, leading her towards the stall.

"I've changed my mind! I want to be a ballerina!" Eli squealed, trying to pull away from the horse.

"It's _just a horse_! She's not going to hurt you!" Darcy assured her in exasperation.

"It's _really_ big!"

"God, I hope you're selling tickets to your wedding night, Eli," Richard sniggered from behind. He groaned as Eli's recoiling leg hit him in the shin. "Right. Sorry," he muttered, rubbing his leg in pain.

"Are you ready?" Darcy questioned her carefully, reaching to pull open the stable door.

"No!"

"Let's just get it over with," he advised, unhooking the latch, and drawing the door open. A small squeal began in the back of Eli's throat and grew louder as the door opened further, until she felt Darcy's warm hands on her shoulders slowly lead her into the stall. "Have you really never been this close to a horse?" he questioned her incredulously.

"Do Shetland Ponies count?" she practically whimpered, edging away from the creature, and further and further into Darcy's chest.

"She's not going to hurt you, she's very friendly," he informed her calmly, slowly pushing her towards the horse. Pansy stepped forward curiously, her big brown eyes taking in the newcomer. "Come on, just reach up and touch her," he instructed.

"It'll bite me."

"They have horses in Australia, right? Why are you so terrified?" Richard questioned curiously from outside the stall.

"I grew up in the city, and then I moved to the beach! There's hardly _any_ on the beach, and I certainly never went up to one!" she objected angrily.

"Just touch her. She won't hurt you, she's very gentle," Darcy assured her quietly, his warm breath on her ear. Eli hid back a tremble as she reluctantly reached forwards to the beast.

It was day four at Headmistress du Bourg's camp of hell, and the spot of sunny weather had encouraged the madwoman to ensure that Eli could ride a horse.

"All respectable English women can ride a horse, Elizabeth," she had said with great authority over breakfast, Eli miserably poking her grapefruit quart with her silver spoon.

"I don't like horses," she tried to insist, but the woman would hear nothing of it.

"What kind of young woman doesn't like horses? They're beautiful, majestic creatures. Boys, you will see to it that Elizabeth can at least _trot_ on one by this evening," she commanded, glaring at her nephews.

"Crap!" Eli cried, pulling her hand away from the horse. "Ew! Darcy – it just _licked me_!" she exclaimed in horror, staring at her hand as if it had just turned blue.

"It's not poisonous," Darcy reminded her patiently, earning him a roll of Eli's eyes.

"It's still huge."

"Quiet short-arse, just get on the bloody horse," Richard commanded impatiently.

"Don't rush me!"

"See the way that her saddle has been put on? This is the girth – it goes under its stomach to make sure you can sit on it without falling off. You put your feet in these – the stirrups. Later I'll show you how to put one on yourself," Darcy informed her, pointing to the heavy leather thing sitting atop the horse. "And this is the bridle – it's got a bit that goes in the horses mouth, see?" he explained, reaching for the horse's mouth, and easing it open so Eli could see it. Her eyes widened in horror of such a site.

"You poor thing! Oh, poor little horsie!" she exclaimed, momentarily forgetting her fear, and stepping towards the creature, giving it a hug around its neck, careful to stay away from its head and feet. "I'm so sorry that mean old Darcy put this on you, you're trapped in here, aren't you?" she crooned softly to it, patting its mane with trembling fingers.

"Oh God. This is going to be interesting," Richard muttered from outside the stall.

"That's okay horsie, _I_ love you," Eli whispered to her.

"She's fine, Elizabeth. It doesn't hurt her, she's used to it," Darcy tried to explain, but she sent him a furious glare.

"Don't worry, horsie, I'll liberate you," she promised firmly. "And no more of this 'Pansy' nonsense. You deserve a _real_ name," she continued.

"She's _used_ to Pansy, just like she's used to the bit and the bridle and the saddle," Darcy continued, growing exasperated.

"Hello, Starshine-Moonbeam-Rainbow-Sparkles!" she greeted the horse excitedly.

"She'll never answer to that, and it's the _stupidest_ name I've ever heard," he objected.

"It's okay, Proserpine, _I'll_ protect you from big bad Darcy."

"Her name isn't Proserpine! It's _Pansy_!"

"Hush now, Willow-Tree-Harmony, he's not going to hurt you."

"How did you go from being terrified of this horse two seconds ago to suddenly loving it?" he questioned with exasperation.

"Hey! Scarlett-Seashawna, should we name the other horses too? That big brown one –"

"Vincent."

"Bless you. Anyway, that big brown one, she –"

"He."

"Lies. Anyway, _her_ name can be Purple-Sophie-Sparkles-Shanzeh."

"_No_."

"Just Sophie-Sparkles-Shanzeh then."

"_No_."

"Sparkles-Shanzeh?"

"Not a chance."

"Shanzeh?"

"_It's a boy_!"

"You know, Darcy, when you finally settle down with a nice young man and you adopt your first baby, you're going to need to accept his ideas for names too," she pointed out to him simply. Darcy gave a groan of frustration.

"Fine. We'll _pretend_ that Vincent's name is Shanzeh."

"Pretend? It _is_ her name! It's a _beautiful_ name, _much_ better than Vincent!" she objected.

"Kill me now," Darcy requested his cousin, who was sniggering away at the scene before him.

"And that grey one, 'Storm', or whatever, _she_ can be Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds," she declared firmly.

"His name is Storm!"

"_Her_ name is _not_ storm, it's either Hey Jude, Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds, or Sexy Sadie!" she insisted.

"It's _Storm_!"

"Fine! It's Hey Jude, end of story!" Eli finished firmly. Suddenly, Pansy gave a slight snort, and tossed her head a little. "Shit!" cried Eli in shock, leaping back away from the horse. "_Bad_ Angel-Stardust-Geranium!" she scolded.

"See? Even _Pansy_ hates your names," Darcy pointed out, reaching beneath Eli's arms, and lifting her up suddenly. She squealed as she was placing atop the horse, her eyes clenched shut, desperately holding onto the horse's neck for her life. "You can relax. You need to sit in the saddle properly, put your feet in the stirrups," he instructed her. She shook her head, practically trembling in fear.

"Come on, Eli, Angel-Stardust-Geranium isn't going to hurt you!" Richard tried to convince her. Eli only whimpered in response. "Should we just walk her around a little bit so she can get the hang of it?" he questioned Darcy.

"That's probably for the best," he agreed, reaching out to take Pansy's reins. Eli squealed as the horse took a step forward, and another, and another, until the horse was walking at a reasonable pace out of the stable, and Eli was producing one continuous stream of '_oh my God oh my God oh my God_'. "You're doing fine," he assured her, but she refused to open her eyes.

"Eli, you can open your eyes! Pansy isn't going to kill you!" Richard pointed out from the other side of the horse as they entered a close little paddock.

"Easy for you to say! I'm fifty bloody feet in the air!" she squealed in response, tightening her grip on the horse. Darcy gave a final growl of impatience, handing the reins over to his cousin.

"Just a slow trot, Rich," he said sternly, before swinging up atop the horse, sitting behind Eli on the saddle. She immediately gave a small scream at the sudden change of arrangements, but allowed Darcy to pull her against his chest for support. She turned her head into his chest, and wrapped her arms around his waist tightly.

"Wow. You both fit in that saddle? Seriously Eli, you have a _tiny_ ass," Richard commented, continuing to lead them around the paddock slowly.

"I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die," Eli whimpered in fear.

"I won't let you die, Elizabeth," Darcy informed her calmly, trying to loosen her grip around his waist.

"No! I'm going to fall off!" she cried, when she realised what he was doing.

"No you're not, you're going to sit up straight, and stare in front of you, and I'll hold onto your waist from behind to keep you steady," he informed her.

"No."

"Elizabeth, you're never going to be able to ride if you can't sit on the saddle properly," Darcy replied sternly, growing exasperated.

"Dirty."

"_Shutup_, Richard," Darcy snapped, glaring fiercely at his sniggering cousin. "Now just turn around to face the right direction, and steady your hands on the back of Pansy's neck. Not too tightly, and remember that I've got you," he instructed his trembling charge, detangling her limbs from around his waist rather reluctantly. "Have you still not opened your eyes?" he exclaimed, upon seeing her pale, blind face.

"I'm perfectly happy this way," she replied simply, her voice a little higher than usual.

"Elizabeth, open your eyes," he instructed her sternly, his calm, deep voice ringing through her trembling body. Slowly, she opened her tightly closed eyes, taking in his ridiculously handsome face, sharp, pale eyes, and dark, slightly curly hair. She whimpered slightly as he placed his hands on her shoulders, and turned her back around so she was facing the front. He placed his hands almost nervously on her waist, holding her tightly as she clutched onto a handful of Pansy's mane. The gentle mare gave a whiney of discomfort, but continued to trot.

"Darcy, don't you _dare_ let me go!" Eli demanded, her voice trembling as he pulled her closer to his chest. She shivered, but not with fear, but with the feel of his skin so close to hers, her scent filling her senses, his warm hands on her waist, and she was suddenly very aware of the fact that the shirt she was wearing wasn't particularly thick, and rather tight against her skin.

Darcy was very aware of all these things himself, and a few other things. Like the gorgeous just-washed citrus scent rising from her dark curls, the faintest hints of lavender coming from her very tight, very thin _Ripcurl_ shirt, not to mention every little curve and crevice that it outlined for him. Her lithe body was pressed so closely to his that he couldn't even remember a time when they weren't together.

"Never, Elizabeth, never," he murmured in her ear in response. She gave another involuntary tremble, but sat up slightly straighter.

"Feeling up to holding the reins yourself?" Richard offered Eli after another lap of the small paddock.

"No!"

"Yes, you are," Darcy assured her, taking the reins from Richard, and placing them in her hands. She stared at them doubtfully as she horse came to a halt. Eli squealed slightly, and drew her legs up, attempting to crawl into a tiny little ball atop the horse. "No! Don't do that!" Darcy cried, trying to stop her attempts. "Just… relax. Put your legs back down, and – um – t – to make her go, y – you need to – umm…" he stammered, placing the reins back in her hands, attempting to relax her. "Put your legs back where they were, and just – err – tighten y – your t – thighs together, f – for a second," he explained nervously. Eli stiffened up, but slowly lowered her legs.

"Go!" she ordered the horse, but Pansy made no movement. She shook the reins, but still nothing happened. "Olé! Olé!"

"Just – here," Darcy murmured, placing his hands on the sides of either of her thighs. He pushed them closer to the horse, and immediately Pansy continued her slow trot. "See?" he managed to get out, Richard sniggering by his side. Staring at him in confusion, his cousin pointed towards his hands, which were still on Eli's thighs. Quickly he recoiled, and placed them back on her waist.

"Shit! I'm riding a horse!" Eli exclaimed in shock.

"Y – yes, good job," Darcy murmured with distraction.

"How do I turn?" she questioned anxiously.

"Pansy will do it. You just need to pull on the left side of the reins slightly," he replied, still somewhat far off. He tried to shift his eyes from her dark blue jeans, but he was finding it rather difficult, especially when he could still feel the curve of her thighs in his mind.

It took several hours for Elizabeth to be able to trot around the paddock by herself, but by that afternoon, she was sitting atop Pansy with confidence, helmet on her head, shoes on her feet, and picnic basket that the maid had packed in the saddlebag.

"Come on! I want to learn how to run!" she cried impatiently, as Darcy and Richard mounted their steeds. Darcy swung atop his huge black stallion with well-practised ease, whilst Richard carefully jumped onto the dapple grey, one of the many belonging to his Aunt in the stable.

"You've barely learnt a trot – you can't '_gallop_' yet," Darcy objected sternly, pulling up beside her, his horse practically dwarfing Pansy.

"Wow. Overcompensating much?" she questioned, taking in the giant black creature.

"Rhapsody is what we call a 'real' horse. Pansy is a pony," he informed her. She scowled in offence.

"Princess Sparkles is _not_ a pony, she's a unicorn," she objected stiffly.

"Where's her horn?"

"She keeps it in her saddle bag so she doesn't make Rhapsody jealous," she retorted. Darcy rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

"Ready?" Richard questioned, pulling the dapple grey up towards them.

"As we'll ever be," Darcy muttered, leading the trio down one of the paddocks to a well-ridden trail. Eli followed in excitement, her fear forgotten, eager to pick up the pace. "Slow down, Eli!" he called after her, when she excitedly raced ahead. She was quickly picking up the basics of riding, and felt comfortable enough to speed up from the trot she had been restricted to.

"Haha! Princess Lollipop and I are liberating each other!" she cried in response, following the well-worn path over the undulating green hills, revelling in the almost forgotten feel of sun on her face. She didn't care if she got lost, or if Pansy threw her off, she was free, for the first time in what felt like years!

"Elizabeth, be careful! You'll hurt yourself!" Darcy cried, racing up towards her. She laughed, her dark curls spilling out from under her helmet, dancing over her shoulders and across her face. A look of awe crossed Darcy's features for a moment, his eyes wide, his mouth falling slightly, but then it was gone, and his concern once again took over it.

"She's fine Will, let her go!" Richard responded, riding up the hill to join his cousin as Eli raced down the other side with excitement.

"She's going way too fast. She'll fall off," Darcy muttered with growing concern.

"She'll be _fine_, Pansy is the steadiest horse in the bloody world, and Eli's just having fun. Let her be," he replied with a chuckle, joining the retreating maiden down the hill. Darcy grumbled miserably, but urged his horse onwards, racing up to the two figures.

The ride was supposed to last for about an hour, but due to the improved speed of the riders, they arrived at the creek in a little less than thirty minutes.

"God, I think I'm actually getting _used_ to the terrible weather in this country!" Eli exclaimed, tugging off her helmet, and fanning her red face with her hand, wiping the thin layer of sweat from her forehead.

"That's just this weather. It's _really_ hot today," Richard commented, sliding off his horse.

"Stick your head in the billabong and see if it's polluted," Eli laughed cheekily, running her hand through her long curls as she pulled Pansy towards the tree where Darcy was tying his.

"That's another Australian word, right?" Richard questioned with amusement, he too leading his horse towards the tree.

"I _so_ have to teach you my language," Eli sighed, giving Pansy a quick hug before tying her reins to the tree. "Thank you for that, Fairy-Princess-Pocahontas," she said warmly, before emptying the contents of the saddle bag.

"So. Do you love horses now?" Richard questioned her curiously, assisting her in carrying the objects in the saddlebag to a large, flat rock on the edge of the water.

"It's a shame my birthday was a month ago, I should have asked for one," she sighed, lying back on the rock, closing her eyes and revelling in the warmth.

"Nice day," Darcy commented suddenly, approaching the rock in near-silence.

"I didn't think you guys _had_ sun in this country," she commented with a small smile, stretching her arm back so her fingers were playing over the surface of the water. "Although, this is probably a winter's day in Australia. Well, maybe a late autumn. But I've unfortunately adjusted to your depressing weather," she sighed. "When I go back to Australia I'll be sweating like a pig in the middle of winter," she sniggered.

"Are you going back?" Richard questioned curiously.

"September," she informed him with a slight nod. "I'll start Uni in Sydney and stay with my Aunt. I've got it all planned out," she said happily.

"Stay with your Aunt? Aren't your parents moving back too?" he asked in astonishment.

"Nope! They'll probably die here. I'm getting out by myself," she replied, sitting up, and opening her eyes. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, and picked up a packet of lollies that she had smuggled into Pansy's saddlebag.

"Jeez, aren't there a few people you wouldn't want to leave behind?" Richard questioned, hazarding a tiny glance towards his cousin. Darcy was chewing on a carrot stick in silence.

"Yeah, a few. But I'll come back and visit them, I just can't stay in England," she explained simply, pulling the bag open, and popping a lolly into her mouth. "God, it's _hot_ today. Like, unreasonably hot for this country," she thought aloud.

"Well, we are in May now," Richard pointed out to her. "So you're going back to Boringsville in a few more days?" he questioned, snatching the lollies from her grip.

"I'll tell you what – I'm pretty glad to be getting out of this place," she commented in response. "Although… it's really nice just here. We shouldn't go back to your Aunt, we should just stay here forever," she added thoughtfully. "But I can't stand _another_ lecture about dress or deportment or whatever crap – I can't believe your Aunt _still_ thinks that I'm _actually_ going to get married," she chuckled.

"She's none too clever, that one," Richard chuckled. "Hey, do you want to go for a swim? The water's probably warm enough," he questioned her all of a sudden.

"I didn't bring any cossies," Eli objected.

"Yeah, but you're wearing knickers, right?"

"I feel offended that you need to ask me that question."

"Well just as long as they're not white, jump in," he suggested.

"I – I – no! I'm not just stripping for the likes of _you_, Richard Fitzwilliam," she said sternly.

"Well I'm going in, and I bet Will is too," he pointed out.

"But you two are wearing board shorts anyway!" she argued. Richard sniggered.

"Come on Eli, just jump in. We promise not to peek," he swore. She narrowed her gaze accusingly. "Come on, just do it," he dared her, standing up. He kicked off his shoes, pulled off his socks, tugged off his shirt, and jumped right into the water.

"How is it?" Eli questioned, when his sopping head broke the surface.

"It's pretty warm, actually," he commented, wiping his dark blond mop from his eyes.

"There's an underwater spring beneath it – it's always warm," Darcy informed them randomly. Eli sent him a quiet glance. "Well I'm going in – but I'd advise that you stay away from Richard if you're planning on doing the same," he informed her, already shoe and sock-less, rising to his feet, and pulling off his shirt.

Eli swallowed rather nervously. He was… well. Wow. He looked pretty darn nice without his shirt. He wasn't too bulky and muscular, but he wasn't too slender and weak. He had some very well-defined muscles, and a pretty nice stomach. He wasn't as pasty and white as Richard, and there were hardly any freckles littering the surface of his perfect skin. She watched the muscles of his arms and back shift as he dove into the water after his cousin, bursting up to the surface, his dark hair pasting around his face. It was a _very_ attractive look for him.

"Come on Eli, the water's great," Richard called up to her. She nervously chewed her lip, and peeked down her shirt to recall what bra she had put on that morning. It was dark red with musky pink pinstripes and matching boylegs, so it wasn't going to turn see-through, but they were a bit ornate, with a little lace, and a few little bows… She didn't know how comfortable she felt about exposing them.

"Umm… my Mum packed these for me," she explained nervously, chewing her lip.

"What does that mean?" Richard whispered to Darcy, unaware that Eli could hear him quite clearly.

"That they're possibly the pulling kind. Or Disney Princess. I'm not sure – her mother gives off some pretty mixed messages," he replied quietly.

"Okay – I'm going in, but you two _can't_ look, okay?" she demanded. The two instantly shut their eyes, and waited ten seconds before opening them again.

Darcy felt his eyes go wide as he watched her pull off her shirt, every inch of the gloriously silky skin covering her spine line another cloud in heaven for him. He practically gawped as she removed her belt and undid her denim shorts, watching as they fell to her ankles with awe and blatant appreciation. She had _very_ nice knickers. He tilted his head slightly as he took in the curve of her -

"I told you two not to look!" Eli squealed, turning around to face them. Darcy nearly fainted in the water.

"We're _boys_, Eli," Richard reminded her patiently. "Do you work out or something? Seriously. You should take your clothes off more often," he commented. Her cheeks burnt pink. "They're fine, really! I mean, other than those granny-knickers, could you have _found_ a more modest pair?" he questioned with slight annoyance. Eli shifted nervously, shyly stepping away from the edge of the stone, using her hands to try and shield her body from their eyes.

"It's fine, Elizabeth," Darcy found himself saying, or rather, squeaking, edging away from his cousin slightly. The water was reasonably clear. "Really. They're more modest than a bikini. You don't have anything to be ashamed of," he assured her. She continued to chew her lip nervously.

"Yeah, I mean, it's not like those Victoria's Secret things, where you can see the girl's tits and stuff," Richard pointed out. He winced when his cousin hit him over the head. "Not that I look at those catalogues… or I'd be looking if I could see _your_ tits," he muttered.

"Well… just… close your eyes for a minute whilst I get in," Eli muttered nervously, chewing her lip as she boys complied. They opened their eyes upon hearing a splash, to see Eli's head bobbing above the water. "Now no one go underwater – or look in my general direction," she instructed.

"Aw, she's so cute!" Richard laughed, swimming over to her. Eli edged away warily, ducking underwater to escape. "Why do _all_ the girls do that?" he questioned his cousin with a frown.

"Because you're a tool," he replied simply.

"I am a fishie. Swimming in the sea," Eli chanted from the surface of the water, floating serenely.

"Right. Been in my stash, have we?" Richard questioned teasingly, sending a small splash her way. Eli returned his flash, and poked out her tongue cheekily in response.

The splashing contest lasted a good ten minutes, and even worked a smile out of Darcy. After another twenty minutes of treading water, and floating on their backs, the three climbed back onto the rock, and lay atop it, waiting for the sun to dry their bodies. Or rather, Darcy lay on his stomach, his head turned slightly in pretty open appreciation of Eli's body.

"What do you think the great Headmistress du Bourg would be saying if she could see us right now?" she questioned lazily, to no one in particular.

"_My, Miss Elizabeth, what a wench you have become_!" Richard commented sarcastically in a squeaky little voice.

"She'd probably tell us off for eating without a full set of cutlery, plates and butler," Darcy muttered dryly.

"Anyone want a smoke?" Richard questioned, sitting up, and reaching for his cigarettes that he had left in his helmet.

"I thought you quit," Darcy frowned. Richard shrugged in response, rising to his feet.

"Our Auntie brings out the devil in me," he replied, taking the packet and his lighter, and shifting off away from them.

"That's going to kill him," Eli commented, watching him go. She then rolled over on her stomach, and pulled a lolly out of the bag she had brought.

"He'll probably quit again sometime soon," Darcy replied simply, trying to ignore the very impressive view he had of Eli's chest. "So… you like Richard?" he questioned. She shrugged.

"He's funny, but a bit self-destructive. It's a little hard to see how you two are related, you're both so different," she commented.

"We have our similarities. You really don't know either of us that well," he replied simply. She nodded slowly, chewing on her gummy strawberry. "I was thinking that tonight we should work through some of the songs as duets. There's some sections that we still need to work on for a few of the songs, but you need to learn how to sing with another person," he suggested.

"Oh yeah – you sing, right?" she questioned. He nodded in response. "I've never heard you," she admitted. He shrugged.

"I don't make a habit of it," he replied. "Maybe '_The Point of No Return_'? You were having the most trouble with that one before," he suggested.

Eli swallowed her lolly very quickly. _The Point of No Return_? That was probably the most sexually charged songs in the _world_, and he wanted to sing it with _her_? How was she going to survive?

"Umm… sure, I guess," she muttered in reply.

"Well then, we'll go through it after dinner," he decided. Eli nodded warily, and bit into another lolly.

"Wow. You haven't killed each other. Should we start heading back?" Richard commented, walking back to the couple. Eli sat up, her body now dry, and pulled her still damp curls back with a hair tie she held on her wrist.

"I'll just grab the horses," Darcy muttered, jumping up, and pulling on his shirt. Eli too put on her clothes, and helped Richard grab the remnants of their picnic, stuffing the empty wrappers into the saddle bags.

"He likes you, you know," Richard whispered to Eli, as she pulled on her shoes. She rolled her eyes.

"No games, Richard," she replied sternly. He chuckled in response.

"Seriously. He's got it bad for you. Be nice to the poor boy and let him help you on your horse, because the way you're acting around him, that's the only feel he's going to be able to cop," he said quietly, before practically skipped away. Eli laughed off his comment.

"Ready?" Darcy questioned, holding his hand out for her to take it. Her heart stopped in her chest.

"Umm, sure," she replied, feeling her cheeks blush red. Richard was lying. She _knew_ Darcy hated her. But maybe… no. He hated her.

"Need any help to get up?" he asked, leading Pansy towards her. She blushingly allowed him to assist her atop the horse, but noted that his hands didn't move from beneath her arms. Richard was lying.

So why did she feel a stab of disappointment at that?

Eli's mind was in turmoil. _Did_ she like Darcy? He was arrogant, obnoxious, commanding, demanding, _always_ had to be right, but… did she _like_ him? After all, he _was_ gorgeous, intelligent, talented, but could she ever fall for a jerk wearing a mask of perfection?

"Be careful, Elizabeth, Pansy isn't that fond of trees, she doesn't know this way back very well," Darcy's voice interrupted her thoughts. They were working their way back to the house in a different route, because the hill they had come down was to steep for the horses to ascend.

"I – I'm fine," she muttered distractedly, picking up the pace slightly.

She wanted to be on her own to think a little. Going into a slow run, she steadily put more distance between herself and the boys. She needed to _think_, without the constant interference of Darcy. She just needed to organise her thoughts a little.

"Shit!" she cried suddenly, as Pansy came to an abrupt stop. Something in front of them was moving in the grass, and it was terrifying the horse. Eli tried to shush her, but as the little orange fox came into view, Pansy reared up with a loud whiney, kicking her forelegs out desperately as the frightened fox scampered away. Eli screamed as she slid off the back of the horse, unable to hold onto the saddle, falling to the ground in a painful heap, rolling down the small hill to crash into a rather large rock in the little trickle of stream.

"Elizabeth!" she heard a terrified cry sound as she fell from the horse. Groaning as she tried to sit up, Eli cursed beneath her breath. She couldn't see any obvious injuries, no blood, no breaks, and Pansy was pawing the ground a few feet above.

"I'm here!" she called, wincing in discomfort as she shifted. She felt pretty sore, but it was her ankle that was throbbing in pain.

"A – are you okay? Are you hurt?" she heard Darcy question anxiously as he rushed down the hill, his horse standing by Pansy.

"I'm fine," she replied, leaning forwards with a wince. She needed to get her shoe off to see what had happened to her ankle.

"You're in pain! Just – stay still for a minute, okay?" Darcy instructed, sounding rather flustered.

"It's my left ankle. I think I sprained it," she muttered reluctantly, not moving.

"Is she alright?" Richard called, following his cousin down the hill quickly.

"She's hurt her ankle. Are you in pain? Is anything else sore?" Darcy questioned nervously.

"Other than my ass from sitting on a horse for about three hours, not really," she retorted, rolling her eyes at his concern. "My back hurts a little, but not much," she reluctantly conceded, after Darcy sent her a firm glare.

"Sit still. I'm going to take your shoe off," he informed her, slowly unlacing her navy converse sneakers, parting the sides so he could slip her foot out completely. "This is going to hurt," he said honestly, but Eli simply nodded. She winced when he pulled the shoe off from her foot, and cursed rather angrily, but resisted the urge to cry as he took off her sock. "It's a bit swollen, but I think it's just a sprain. I'm pretty sure it's not broken," he informed her, tenderly inspecting her ankle.

"Yay! She's going to live!" Richard cheered mockingly. Eli rolled her eyes, and poked out her tongue at him.

"Do you think you can stand?" Darcy questioned her carefully.

"I'll try," she muttered, using his arm as support to attempt to rise to her feet. Slowly, she lowered her left foot, and attempted to put pressure on it. She immediately crumpled into Darcy's arms.

"That's alright, I'll carry you up to your horse, you should be able to ride if we take it slowly," he replied, pulling her up into his arms carefully. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he walked up the hill.

"Don't you need to be wearing a suit of armour for this?" she questioned curiously. He rolled his pale eyes.

"I suppose I should also have wavy blonde hair and blue eyes," he muttered sarcastically.

"Hey, they don't give out 'knight in shining armour' licences to just anyone, you know," she retorted.

"Do you _want_ me to drop you?"

"No, please."

"Then just be quiet," he instructed her patiently.

"Sorry I'm so fat, I'm probably breaking your back," she apologised briefly, as he approached Pansy.

"You're not fat, and my back is fine," he retorted, slowly easing her onto the back of the horse. "Are you okay? Do you think you can ride?" he questioned her with concern. Slipping her good foot into the stirrup, Eli nodded, and grasped the reins.

"I think I'm good. But maybe you or Richard should lead," she conceded.

"Just follow me at a slow pace," he instructed her in response, leaving her side to mount his horse. In a few seconds he was riding just ahead of her, at little more than a walking pace.

Eli frowned slightly as she focused on Darcy's form. She was being handed a view that she didn't normally have of him. From her position, she could see about three quarters of his profile, his incredibly straight and tensed back, elegantly moving with the horse like it was an extension of himself. She wondered if he ever relaxed, ever just… sat back and had a good time with friends, watching a movie or playing video games. He didn't seem the kind. He was always to uptight and proper, she almost pitied him.

Not for the first time, she wondered if she had been unfair in her initial impression of the great William Darcy.

_Okay, Eli, what do you know about him_?

_Fact One_, she thought to herself. _He's amazingly talented, amazingly attractive, and amazingly clever_.

She could concede as much. He _was_ a fine example of the human race, if she were to only focus on those features of him.

_Fact Two_, she continued. _He's controlling_.

She recalled all their music sessions together with no great fondness. He was always telling her when she was going wrong, practically shouting insults at her, pushing her until she met _his_ absurdly high standards.

_Fact Three_. _He's arrogant_.

_That_ was true. He was constantly assuring those around him that he was infinitely superior, and infinitely more important than them. Almost every action he ever made was to show off his skill, his attractiveness, his intelligence. His damn pride was all consuming!

She sighed slightly as she realised that she was being childish. She didn't like him, she knew that for certain, but she was simply trying to find excuses for something that she couldn't explain, like when she had tried to find excuses for her attraction to him. He just frustrated her… it was best that she stayed away from him. She had very little reason to think well of him, after all.

"You're pretty quiet," Richard commented, trotting up behind her. Eli shrugged.

"I'm just thinking," she replied simply.

"About what?"

"About lions and tigers and bears – oh my!" she answered mockingly. Richard snorted in laughter, shaking his head at her reply.

"Why don't you ride ahead and talk to him?" he suggested. Eli rolled her eyes.

"I don't need to talk to him," she replied with a frown. Richard sighed.

"Listen, I just have this feeling that something's going to happen soon, and… well, I think that maybe it's best if you and Darcy were… a little closer," he said finally. Eli turned to him with a raised brow.

"That's shit. You _know_ something, don't you," she replied frowningly. He shrugged, but didn't hide the secretive smile playing on his lips.

"I can safely say that very soon, you won't need to keep playing your little games," he replied smugly.

"What are you _on_, man?" she questioned incredulously.

"Not much, surprisingly. Or at least not as much as I should be on," he replied with a smirk. Eli rolled her eyes at his deliberate avoidance of the topic.

"Whatever. You're no use to me at all," she muttered, increasing Pansy's speed.

They got to the house in good time, considering their pace. After giving the horses to the stable hands so they could be returned to their stalls, Darcy wordlessly picked Eli up, and began walking up to the house as if she weighed nothing more than a large book.

"I can walk!" she argued angrily, frustrated with his assumptions of her mobility.

"It's best that you don't put any pressure on your foot, or else it won't heal properly," he replied. Eli scowled – her ankle wasn't hurting as much, but she knew full well that walking wasn't going to be the easiest thing. Her pride was bruised with his attempts to be the night in shining armour.

"What do you think your Aunt's going to say when she sees you carrying me into the house?" she snapped at him. But instead of Darcy answering, Richard burst into laughter beside them.

"Oh, I doubt she'll mind," he chuckled.

"What are you _talking_ about? You've been weird all day, Richard," she replied in confusion.

"He's always like that. It's just taken you this long to see through his initial charming appearance to discover that he's the evolutionary equivalent of a pile of slime," Darcy murmured simply, staring straight ahead of him with determination.

"Listen," Richard began, as they walked up the steps of the patio to enter the house from one of the many rooms with seemingly no purpose. "I'm just saying that something good is happening very soon, and maybe this kind of entrance will just enhance the awesomeness of such an event," he mused thoughtfully, trying to hide the grin creeping across his face.

"Seriously, can someone tell me what the hell is going –"

"Eli!" a loud screech sounded from the entrance to one of the many sitting rooms in the house. The blood drained from Eli's face as she stared in confusion.

"Francie? What are you doing here?" she questioned dumbly, as her ecstatic blonde mother rushed towards her, red lips stretched into a broad grin.

"That's your _Mum_? Wow. She's hot," Richard muttered in surprise.

"Oh, my little baby! Are you hurt?" she questioned excitedly, upon seeing just who was carrying her into the house.

"Francie, what are you _doing_ here?" Eli asked in great confusion.

"Oh William, it's _so_ nice of you to be so helpful!"

"That's quite alright, Mrs Bennett."

"Such a _kind_ young man you are, to go to such trouble!"

"Assisting your daughter is no trouble, Mrs Bennett."

"_Francie_, seriously, what are you _doing_?" Eli repeated, as Darcy continued to carry her further into the house.

"Why, because your Headmistress asked me to come, of course!" she exclaimed in reply, rolling her icy blue eyes in false sincerity.

"Why would she _ask_ you to come?" Eli questioned incredulously.

"To discuss your engagement, Miss Elizabeth," came the familiar commanding tone from a sitting room she was being taken into.

"M – my _what_?" Eli exclaimed.

"Your engagement."

"To _who_?"

"Why, to my nephew, of course."

**A/N: Wow, thank you for all the support you guys! I'm glad you got a laugh out of the flamer :D So I mentioned horses in this chapter – I know **_**nothing**_** about horses, being allergic to the evil creatures, but I **_**do **_**have a collection of My Little Ponies. I got the technical words off google, but I doubt they're correct, sorry! So I'll hopefully update on Thursday night, but no promises, I still have my music exams to go, and those are the big scary ones!**

**To 'Concerned': Yes, to a degree, you are quite right. Being gifted alone does not define a person, but it is a very big part of someone's life, just like any sort of label is. In the case of Eli, it's not the fact that she's academically gifted, but her musical talent that is such an important part of her life. You have to take into account that both Eli and I are sixteen year old small-town Australian girls who grew up in a very sheltered society, and we are both extremely angsty, so something that separates Eli and myself from peers is really big, because both she and I are very immature. I don't feel that a gift or talent defines you, but you are defined by what you achieve and what you overcome. I had a pamphlet floating around my room somewhere that was given to me by the last doctor I saw about life being what you do, not what you are, and if your achievements are shaped by distinct learning advantages you have then you are, in some way, shaped by your label. The main angle that appears throughout the rest of the story is that of Eli being bullied for being different, because people are intimidated and jealous of her. So it will come up, but she won't be defined by it, but by what she overcomes in relation to it. Thanks for the review ^__^**


	19. The Promise of a Ring

"_Ouch, I have lost myself again,  
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found  
Yeah I think that I might break,  
I've lost myself again and I feel unsafe  
Be my friend, hold me, wrap me up,  
Unfold me, I am small, I'm needy  
Warm me up, and breathe me_"

-Sia, 'Breathe Me'

"What are you _on_?" Eli exclaimed suddenly, the moment that Darcy had set her down on the chaise lounge. "I'm not getting married! You're _crazy_!" she cried, rising unsteadily to her feet. Wincing through the pain, she started to stumble out of the room.

"Eli! Get back here!" Francie practically growled at her daughter.

"Umm, listen, I think she just needs a few minutes, guys" Richard suggested, before dashing after her. Eli barely heard what he had said; she was staggering out of the room as fast as she could. She tried to resist when he wrapped her arm over his shoulders, and started to pull her up the stairs, but she was too weak. "So –"

"No. No words, I'm planning how to kill my mother," she snapped the moment his mouth opened. He nodded, but he seemed confused all the same.

It was another trick, she knew. It was another one of those things that her mother said to freak her out that never happened. Her mother was pathetic – and delusional.

"I can take it from here, Richard," she found herself murmuring at the door to her bedroom.

"Well, alright then," was his reply, freeing her as stepped into her room, and shut the door behind her. A nice long bath and she would be fine, she tried to assure herself. Sighing as she pulled open the door to the bathroom, she felt saddened for her mother's pathetic existence. She _still_ thought that she could get away with everything, clearly.

She didn't _want_ to marry Richard. She had no desire whatsoever to marry him – he was funny, and cute, but she didn't want to be shackled to him just because the family wanted to be rid of their most troubling offspring! She saw nothing more than friendship on their horizons!

The bathwater helped ease her confusion, and soon she was in a state of calm once more. She had taken a few pain killers she found under the cabinet, and her ankle felt like it was improving. She just hoped that when she went downstairs, her mother would be gone, and Richard was able to convince everyone that he didn't want to marry her either.

_So,_ she thought to herself. _This must be why they sent me here_. _To get to know the boy they had selected before heaping him on me_.

Eli snorted in laughter at her mother's actions. Francie could really be a complete and total _idiot _sometimes. She felt quite sorry for her.

Freshly changed, and limping only slightly, Eli felt like she was ready to go downstairs and laugh off the afternoon's events with Richard. If her ass wasn't practically throbbing, she'd be up for another ride on Pansy, too.

"Oh. There you are," she heard a slightly anxious voice state from behind. Darcy was standing just outside his bedroom, looking like he had had the same idea as her and bathed after their little creek-side picnic.

"Ah. Braving the lion's den, then?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you, you know, okay… with everything?" he asked her suddenly. She gave a small laugh.

"I'm fine. It's a bit of a surprise, but I have to admit, I guess I kind of knew all along. I kind of suspected this was going to happen," she sighed simply, with a shrug of her shoulders.

"So… we're fine?" he questioned her, after a pause. She stared at him questioningly.

"Why wouldn't we be?" she replied, unsure of what his definition of 'fine' was. They seemed to be behaving as normal, like brief acquaintances.

"You're right. We had better go down – this is going to be interesting," he sighed finally. Eli leant against the banister and his shoulder for support as she descended the stairs, preparing her speech for Francie. She needed to make it very clear that she had no feelings for Richard, and no desire to enter an engagement with him. Maybe Francie would even take her home early so she could see how Jay was.

"Hey Squirt," Richard greeted, as she entered the sitting room. Glancing out the window, she realised that it would almost be dinnertime.

"So what's going on?" she asked, looking around for any sign of her mother and headmistress.

"Ah. Well, backup has arrived. They're convening now in the dining room. Will, Auntie wants you in there," he replied, glancing to his cousin, who nodded, and stepped out of the room. Eli chuckled. They were all so transparent, sending Darcy away so they could have a moment 'alone'.

"God, they're all so ridiculous," she murmured, taking a seat on the chaise, inspecting her ankle thoughtfully. It _looked_ fine, and the pain was fading quickly.

"Well, this is the way it works in these sorts of families," he shrugged simply, pulling his iphone from his pocket. In a number of seconds, Eli could hear the sounds of him playing what she suspected was a car chase game.

Darcy didn't come out of the dining room for a while, and looked a bit disgruntled.

"That's my cue then," Richard declared, rising to his feet, and wandering out of the room indifferently, still playing on his iphone.

"H – How's your ankle?" Darcy questioned her, almost _nervously_, as he started to pace.

"Uh, fine, I guess," she shrugged. "I just needed to relax it for a bit in some warm water. That and the entire chemist shop I ingested really seem to be helping," she added, attempting cheerfulness. She was waiting for the screams of her mother and headmistress as Richard went to tell them that he had no intention of marrying her.

"Listen – I know that this is all a strange process to you, so I wanted to make it as normal as possible," he began, taking a deep breath, still not meeting her eye. "The thing is, I'm perfectly content for this to happen. In fact, I _want_ it to happen," he stated slowly. Eli frowned slightly. What was he talking about? "I know we're young, but it doesn't have to be right away, we can wait as long as you need," he continued.

"What are you –"

"Please, Elizabeth, I need to say this," he interrupted her, growing slightly frustrated as he continued his pacing. "I tried to resist this – I really did – but I think this is for the best. For everyone. I mean, _obviously_ there are some things about this arrangement that aren't too appealing, the way that it's been conducted isn't what I hoped for, but it's a means to an end that I want more than anything I've ever wanted in my entire life," he stated, speaking factually, with little emotion. Eli watched on in confusion. "The advantage of doing it this way, though, it that it means we're free to move at whatever pace we need. And even though we have to put up with the likes of your mother shoving her nose into our business – and in fact, your family in _general_, I know that this is what's going to work. It's what's best," he continued.

"Umm… I'm having a blonde moment," Eli said slowly, trying to comprehend his words.

"Even though it's a strange way to do it, I want to have this little bit of tradition," he said finally, digging something out of his pocket with steady hands. Handing the velvet box to her, he stepped back expectantly.

Eli opened the box with a slight frown of confusion. In it sat the most perfect, beautiful ring she had ever seen. It was incredible. Made of white gold, with ivy vines winding around the band and meeting to curl around a brilliant white diamond in the centre. It was gorgeous – and must have cost a fortune.

"Why are you giving me this?" she asked with confusion. She wondered if the pain killers were deadening her sense of perception.

"Because men traditionally give their intendeds promise rings in this situation," he replied simply.

Realisation hit Eli like a ton of bricks. She _thought_ she was getting 'engaged' to Richard – but she had the wrong nephew. Suddenly it all made sense, everything fit. How long had they been planning it? When did they decide that she was going to marry _Darcy_?

_But_, she reminded herself, _I'm not marrying him. Francie knows that I don't want this – Dorr would never let her get away with it. They can't make me marry a man that I don't love. No WAY_.

"Elizabeth? You haven't said anything," Darcy reminded her, after a long pause.

"I'm sorry, what did you _want_ me to say?" she questioned, suddenly growing angered with him. He hated her too – was he so spineless that he would let his Aunt force him into a marriage that he didn't want either?

"Well… nothing really, it's just… you're not normally so quiet," he pointed out.

"I need to go speak to my mother," she announced suddenly, rising to her feet.

"Oh – err, alright," Darcy murmured as she stormed past him, forgetting the throbbing pain in her leg, determined to set her mother straight. "I should go in with you. They wanted to see the both of us when we'd had a minute alone," he added, sounding a little disappointed with something.

"Whatever," she found herself murmuring, heading straight for the dining room. Pushing the doors open, she stepped inside, but what she found in there was her second shock of the evening.

The long wooden dining table was covered in papers, forms, folders and refreshments. There were two people in the room she hadn't expected to see, two people who had obviously arrived whilst she was in the bath. She didn't recognise the first, a stately looking woman wearing a very sharp business suit, but she was very familiar with the second.

"Dorr? What are you doing here?" she questioned. Her father raised his eyes to meet hers, but then turned back to his book.

"I assume you've worked it out now, Eli," he replied stiffly. "After all, you weren't deemed 'gifted' for nothing," he muttered sarcastically. She frowned in confusion, but before she could object, she was being pushed into a chair by her mother.

"Good, now we can move along," her Headmistress declared. "Mrs MacGovery – does the contract state anything about the conditions under which William marries? For example, does the girl have to be eighteen for him to inherit?" she questioned the unfamiliar woman.

"No, the contract merely states that he can't inherit the bulk of the estates until he has a wife," she replied politely. "As long as Miss Bennett has permission from her caregivers, the marriage is seen as legitimate, and they both qualify to inherit," she informed everyone at the table.

"I'd prefer they had a long engagement, Eli should be at least eighteen before they marry," Francie intervened.

"We'll need a pre-nuptial, of course," the Headmistress stated.

"Perhaps we should draw up a whole new contract for them to sign?" Francie suggested.

"Good idea. Mrs MacGovery, we'll need to see a draft of that quite soon," Headmistress du Bourg demanded. "It will need to state that in the event of a divorce, Pemberley stays in the Darcy family, and no financial equivalent can be demanded from my nephew. Pemberley is, and will always remain in the possession of a Darcy heir," she stated. The woman nodded, and scribbled down the request on one of the many papers littering the table.

"But will she be able to claim any of the other properties?" Francie questioned, with raised brow.

"Of course. It will be divided in half from there – but Pemberley and all income associated with it stays in the Darcy family," Headmistress du Bourg insisted firmly.

Eli watched on in dumb silence, unsure of what to say. She couldn't believe what was happening.

"I'm sorry, but don't you think you should be consulting _me_ on this one?" she exclaimed suddenly, when the discussion veered into the wedding.

"Of course you can have a say in your wedding – but you don't exactly have the best taste, I'm afraid," Francie retorted instantly.

"I'm not talking about a _wedding_, because there isn't going to _be_ a bloody wedding!" she cried angrily. "I'm not getting married! This is _madness_; you can't force someone to get married! I'm sixteen! I – he's only eighteen!" she exclaimed.

"He'll be nineteen in a few months," her headmistress pointed out, but Eli only shook her head angrily.

"That doesn't matter! I'm _not_ getting married! It _has_ to be illegal! Aren't you supposed to see a guy, flirt with him a little, start dating, move in with him, and _then_ get married? Over a period of about five to ten years?" she questioned angrily, rising to her feet.

"At least you've saved a little time," Dorr drawled sarcastically.

"How can you just _let_ them do this? You _know_ that I don't want to get married!" Eli cried. _Not to mention that I would NEVER marry Darcy, of all people_, she thought to herself.

"No, Elizabeth, I _don't_ know anymore," he snapped, not even looking up from his book. "I used to think that I do – but I no longer have any idea when it comes to you. You were supposed to be at Oxford by now, studying to become a doctor. But instead you're taking your finals over again, spending your time fraternising instead of studying, and now I hear you've got a fiancée and aren't even _going_ to Oxford," he continued angrily, finally raising his eyes from his novel, and glaring at her from behind his spectacles. "In fact, there's very little you could do right now that could disappoint me further. You're no longer the child that I recognise as my daughter," he said finally.

Eli almost physically flew back with the weight of the blow that Dorr had just thrown at her. She felt her eyes widen, and tears form in them, but no words formed in her throat. She swallowed, and tore her eyes away from the man she could no longer call her father, staring at nothing and seeing only the reflections of her misery.

"So what you're saying is… y – you're fine with me being sold to a man I hardly know, chained to him for the rest of my life, because I didn't do what _you_ told me to do?" she questioned finally, the repressed anger of a lifetime coursing through her body. "Because I had the nerve to realise that I don't want to be a doctor or a scientist or a lawyer, you're just washing your hands of me without a second thought? Am I really so _worthless_ to you?" she asked angrily, tears falling freely from her dark eyes. She clenched her fists, vaguely recalling the feeling of soft velvet in the palm of her hands.

"You've _wasted_ your gift – squandered it away on _music_! If you mean nothing to me, then it's only because of _your_ actions!" he cried angrily, raising his voice for the first time that Eli could ever recall.

"Music is a _part_ of me! You can't just strip that part of my being away!" she objected, but the scoff and toss of her father's head let her know that he didn't really give a damn.

"Why could you never realise that music is never going to cure cancer, or allow mankind to fly? Why could you never understand that your genius is not only a gift for _you_, but for the world you could progress with it?" he questioned her furiously in response, his face pale with anger.

"And why could you never love me for just being _me_?" she cried in response, now choking on her tears, which were falling freely from her eyes. Dorr's eyes were cold and distant.

"I'll give my permission for her to marry the boy. Unless you have a paper for me to sign, please do not call on me again," he sniffed finally, rising to his feet.

"That's right – _go_! Just leave! If you've got somewhere else that you'd rather be then go. Take your books and _go_!" Eli spat angrily at him. He gave her one last final glance, and walked right past her, his face cold, his jaw set and firm.

"Calm down, for goodness sakes Eli, you know what your father is like," Francie snapped to her daughter.

"I can't be here," Eli muttered, seemingly to herself.

"Come on Elizabeth, let's get some air," she heard Darcy mumble, taking her arm, and quickly leading her out of the dining room. She stared in front of her without seeing anything, just running Dorr's words over and over in her head. If he didn't care that she was being forced into an arranged marriage, why should she?

She found herself sitting on a wicker couch on a balcony that she had never been on before, but it had an amazing view of the grounds. The white swans had returned to the lake, floating across the surface of the dark, clouded water. She rested her chin on the cool, smooth stone of the edge of the balcony's walls, staring out to the graceful white creatures passing like ships over the lake. The night air was cool, and calmed her raging thoughts.

"I'm sorry," she heard Darcy apologise finally. She sighed, and took her time in replying.

"That's okay. I doubt you volunteered to be shackled to me," she muttered. Even though she disliked him – they finally had something in common. They were both being forced into a union that they didn't want.

"I meant that I'm sorry about your father," he clarified.

"Oh," she muttered in realisation, shrugging. "He's like that. I just… I don't know what I was expecting. He's never going to change," she sighed, running the end of one of her dark curls through her lithe fingers.

"Well when we're married we don't have to see him, you know," he pointed out to her simply.

"Darcy, we don't have to get married. I'll find a way out of it, don't worry," she assured him.

"Oh. Well…" he muttered quietly. "Well perhaps I don't want to get out of it. It's unorthodox, but I see no problem with this arrangement," he admitted. Eli turned to him in confusion, raising an eyebrow. "I know that you'd feel differently if this _weren't_ an arranged marriage, and you didn't have to deny just for the sake of denying the wishes of your mother," he pointed out.

"If this weren't an arranged marriage, this situation wouldn't be occurring," she reminded him stiffly. He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Listen, I have an estate in Derbyshire and a pile of money that I don't get until I marry. I don't care about the money – but I grew up in Derbyshire, and Pemberley is my home. I want it back," he explained. "We would never need to work; we could just play music for the rest of our lives. I know that this is scary, but… like I said earlier, it's a means to an end that I want," he continued, suddenly looking very sincere. "I want this, Elizabeth. _So_ badly, you can have no idea. Every day is a torment for me – I've been welcoming this since I came to the realisation that by marrying you, I won't be marrying your family," he explained. Eli snorted at his remark, but she had expected to less.

"Sorry, Darcy, but I always thought that I'd marry a man who doesn't just consider me a means to an end, and isn't doing this just so he can get a house and some money. Oh, the whole 'not dissing my family right in front of me' helps, too," she replied coolly, crossing her arms against her chest in frustration.

"You aren't the means, _you're_ the end –"

"Darcy, you can't be serious about this. You can't just let other people run your life for you," she snapped, turning back to the swans. She was furious. Why was he just _letting_ everyone boss him around? Wasn't _he_ supposed to be the controlling one?

"Elizabeth."

"God, what_ now_, Darcy?" she snapped, turning around sharply.

His lips were soft and firm at the same time, and very insistent against hers. For a moment she was too stunned to do anything, but as his mouth moved against hers, softly kissing her lips, she felt her eyelids flutter to a close, and she responded to his movements. Softly his hand buried in the curls at the nape of her neck, and she felt his other at her waist, slowly easing her back on the couch, partially covering her body with his. The kiss deepened, until he was running his tongue across her lower lip, and grazing it slightly with his teeth. He took his opportunity to increase the intensity by slipping his tongue into her mouth as she gasped in the sensation, gently coaxing her to do the same.

Something at the back of her brain was vaguely aware that she shouldn't be kissing a boy that she not long ago firmly disliked, but the main driving force of her mind and body knew that she couldn't stop, even if she wanted to. She couldn't pull away as the hand on her waist gently began stroking the curve to her hip, back and forth, until he had seemed to learn it off by heart.

She wondered how her hands had found their way into his dark, slightly curly hair, but she had no focus to consider such things – not when he was doing such a bloody damn good job of kissing her.

To her shame, she heard her whimper in disappointment as he removed his mouth from hers, her cheeks blushing bright red as he chuckled at her expense, beginning a trail with his lips that led from her jawbone, up to her earlobe, which he gently bit, causing a shiver to run through her body, before continuing down her neck, eliciting full body tremors as his tongue found its haven in the dip of her clavicle, both hands now running up and down her sides. She couldn't help but emit tiny noises of pleasure as he continued his actions. He slowly kissed his way across her shoulder, before reversing his path. She was in a state of awe. She had no idea what he was doing, but she definitely enjoyed it. Didn't people only kiss on the mouth? Why was he doing that? Was he getting any enjoyment out of it? How did he become so _good_ at it?

"Say something," he murmured against her neck. She shivered, having felt the words more than she had heard them.

"Umm…" she managed to get out, her head involuntarily easing back with a tiny sigh. It was like she had no control over her body at all! "Err... I… ummm…" she stammered.

"Speak, Elizabeth. Tell me what you're feeling," he demanded, finding a place on her neck that caused her to practically writhe when kissed.

"I… umm… s – scared," she replied. 'Scared' was the first word that leapt to her lips, and it was probably the most appropriate. She was terrified of whatever was happening that made her so unable to think, so unable to act. She was admittedly very inexperienced with whatever it was that they were doing. It wasn't really kissing, was it? Was it what her friend Regan classified as 'hooking up' with a guy?

"It's okay… I'm here. I won't hurt you…" he murmured in reply, gently coaxing her to relax with his gently hands on her waist. He began his trail back down to her collarbone with his mouth, after paying more than appropriate homage to the most sensitive areas of her neck. Soon his touch was no longer soothing, but it was causing her to feel something completely different as his hands rose higher up her torso.

_What are you DOING?_

Suddenly, her subconscious leapt into action. Sitting up immediately, and pulling away from him, until she had slid off the couch, and was backing away into the corner of the balcony, Eli's mind was racing. How could she be such a slut, and just _let_ him do whatever he was doing to her? Hadn't she heeded _any_ of Llewellyn's words? He _told_ her not to let him take advantage of her, and what was she doing? _Exactly that_!

"Elizabeth, I'm sorry, I just got –" Darcy tried to apologise, sitting up, smoothing his hair back desperately, but only making more of a mess of it.

Eli involuntarily felt tears come to her eyes, and she had no idea of how to stop them. She continued to back away until there was no more room for her to move, her whole body now wracked with sobs as she fell to the floor, pulling her legs up and hugging herself tightly with her arms. She could hardly breathe; she was so choked with sobs. Her chest was tightening over her lungs, until all she could do was sob and take jagged little breathes. She was trembling so badly that it was making her entire body unstable, but she just couldn't _stop_.

Darcy looked horrified, his eyes wide with fear. He seemed to be internally debating something. Bitterly, she wondered if he had ever made a girl cry before. She doubted it – he probably only liked girls that would go along with whatever he had just tried to do with her.

_Oh god_, she thought suddenly to herself, _if I hadn't pulled away, would he have –­_

That thought brought a fresh wave of tears for her. She was just so insanely scared, and she had no idea why. It was uncontrollable. Her fear only increased when Darcy disappeared back into the room they had entered the balcony from, and she had no idea _why_! She eased only slightly when he returned, but continued to tremble as he moved closer to her.

_What the hell is he doing?_, she wondered as he moved her hands up to her mouth, and covered it with an empty lolly bag. She breathed in the sweet, sugary air of the bag as it expanded and constricted around her mouth. Slowly her breathing started to ease, and her sobs lessen. Her chest didn't feel as tight, and her body wasn't shaking as much. He lowered the bag from her mouth, meeting her dark eyes with his pale ones with an expression that she had never before seen, and certainly didn't recognise.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you," he said quietly.

"Y – you kissed me," she found herself stammering out. He nodded slowly. "A – and you kissed my neck, and my face, and my shoulder," she stated shakily. He nodded once again. "Why?" she questioned incredulously, wiping her cheeks with her sleave to rid them of the tears.

"Because… I wanted to," he stated simply. "Eli, we're _engaged_ now. What we just did is normal," he informed her. She took a deep, steady breath, and ran her hands through her hair, shaking her head as she went.

"No."

She rose unsteadily to her feet, and started to run out of the room. She rushed through his room, down the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door. She didn't stop running. Her feet were bare and her ankle was throbbing in almost unbearable pain, but she kept on running through the cold, dewy grass, she just _ran_.

She ran until she fell to the ground, unable to move anymore, and her body once more shook with sobs. She couldn't believe what she had done.

The night sky was endless in its expanse above her, but it offered no comfort.

"How can you _possibly_ be fair?" she screamed to the sky above her, wishing that it would magically rearrange, wishing that the southern cross could appear above her, wishing that she were in Australia, that she had never met William Darcy and never let him touch her like he had just done, and that she had never lost in one night her father, her freedom, and her self-respect. It had all disappeared in a blink of an eye, never to appear again.

**A/N: Well, it's what you've all been waiting for! I'm sorry that my schedule has been a little bit odd recently, but my exams are taking up a lot of time. Only English extension, music practical and digital imaging left! Then I'll be **_**freeeeeeee**_**! So I hope you liked it, and I'm sorry for all those who have been shaking their angry fists at me to get chapters, I'm so sorry! I should be able to update on Saturday before work, but I might not be conscience then… I hope you enjoyed this one :D**

**PS: Sorry for the blonde joke to any blonde readers, but I was born blonde so I make jokes like that all the time. Feel free to make brunette jokes in response :D**


	20. Twisted Every Way

"_Twisted every way, what answer can I give?_

_Am I to risk my life, to win the chance to live?_

_Can I betray the man who once inspired my voice?_

_Do I become his prey, do I have any choice?_

_He kills without a thought; he murders all that's good,_

_I know I can't refuse, and yet, I wish I could_

_Oh God if I agree, what horrors wait for me?_

_In this, the phantom's opera?"_

- Phantom of the Opera, 'Twisted Every Way'

Eli smoothed down her uniform, her body filled with the distinct feeling that it was a funeral she was attending, not just her first day of third term. She found that she much preferred the summer uniform to the winter, but that wasn't saying much. She wore a cute grey sheath dress with a nice white blouse beneath, and three quarter length white stockings that revealed a sliver of thigh before reaching her hemline, her cute black ballet flat shoes returning to the ensemble. Her burgundy cardigan still covering her goose-pimpling arms, she felt much too weak to face the now familiar gates of Rosings Park.

And that was because of one little part of her appearance. The diamond ring on the finger of her left hand declaring that she had already been purchased.

She could hardly believe what had happened. After '_that_' night at her Headmistress' estate, Francie had quite blankly informed her that she was going to marry Darcy, no matter what, however, after several hours of argument and threats to call social services, they had relented, and given her till the end of term to 'get used' to the idea before it was official. Eli wasn't naïve. She knew full well that everyone in the school would be well aware of the situation.

"Come on Eli, get out of the car," Jay ordered her sister with slight pointedness. Feeling a sense of déjà vu, Eli knew it was pointless to resist. Sighing, she slid out of the vehicle, and onto the stony footpath.

"Now be good, both of you," Francie ordered her daughters sternly. "Eli, make sure you spend as much time with William as possible, you don't want him to forget that he has a fiancée!" she added to her youngest. Eli grit her teeth in anger, keeping her eyes lowered as the car drove away, following her sister in silence up to the gates.

"He hasn't got a fiancée, he's got a trapped bird," she murmured angrily beneath her breath.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" Jay declared brightly, trying to speak over the chatter Eli heard surrounding her.

"I heard she's a child prodigy!"

"She's probably pregnant, getting married at sixteen!"

"I can't _believe_ she got Darcy! _Darcy_!"

"Look how she's wearing her hair! I wonder if I'd look good like that?"

"Did you know that she's 'gifted'?"

"I heard she's already finished school, and she's just retaking her finals so she can be with her boyfriend."

"Did _you_ know that they were together? I never would have guessed!"

"God, I _hate_ her."

Eli glared at the path in front of her, determined not to react. They could say whatever they wanted to say. So what if she was 'engaged' at sixteen? She didn't care. She could just pick up and leave whenever she wanted.

Not for the first time, the question floated in the front of her mind, _why haven't you left yet?_ It would make perfect sense for her to leave at that very moment – but the thing that was causing her so much internal agony was that she didn't _want_ to leave. She couldn't understand why, but kissing Darcy was something so indescribable to her, and whilst she regretted it, she knew that she couldn't leave until she could be sure that he wouldn't haunt her from across an ocean. They had fallen into a strange sort of routine in the past few days since they had officially become 'engaged'.

They had seen each other every day. Eli had only returned to her home the day before, and that was after spending half of it with Darcy by her side. They didn't speak much, but rather, simply sat, sometimes holding hands, just to keep up appearances, she supposed. They hadn't had a chance to discuss what had occurred, on '_that night_'. In some respects she was grateful, but in others she was simply confused.

"Come on then, we'll try and find Emilia before class starts," Jay suggested, in her falsely cheerful voice as she tried to lead her through the groups of people staring and whispering behind their hands.

"Alright, break it up! I know she's gorgeous, but really, you can look at Eli any time!" a loud, commanding voice declared. Eli felt her heart soar instantly; she knew that she could confess _everything_ with Emilia. She hadn't been able to speak to Jay properly of all the events that had occurred, not of the kiss. She knew that Emilia would be able to shed some light on her confusion. "Move it! Get to class!" she ordered everyone, suddenly coming into view. She pulled Eli into a strong hug the moment that she came in view, squeezing her so tightly that she could hardly breathe. "We need to talk, alright?" she demanded. Eli nodded, sniffling slightly.

"Class is about to start, but this recess," she promised. Emilia nodded firmly, pulling her friend into another tight hug as the bell run. Reluctantly releasing her, Jay walked with Eli part of the way down the hall.

"What do you have now?" she asked light-heartedly.

"Music," her sister muttered quietly. Jay nodded in realisation.

"Oh… good luck," she murmured. Eli nodded softly.

"I – I'll see you later," she replied. Eli continued down the hallway with determination. She ignored the whispers and stares surrounding her as she continued down the hall.

"Vulture!" one rather gutsy girl cried loudly.

"Yeah, you're a vulture! You're a freak!" another squealed in response. Eli bit her lip as she continued to walk.

"Why did they let you escape from the brain-farm, freak?" one more questioned angrily. Eli wheeled around suddenly, her dark eyes filled with anger.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" she cried in angry response, cursing herself for being weak as their taunts increased.

"Elizabeth," a call came, breaking through the cries of those surrounding her. She turned, to come face to face with the cause of all her problems. Darcy regarded her with apologetic eyes, before reaching out and taking her hand in his. The taunts silenced almost instantly. Somehow she was thankful for the help he offered, but offended that he didn't think she could defend herself. Neither said a word as they walked to music together, looking rather sombre for a couple apparently in love. They both knew their duty.

"Darcy! Oh, it's _so_ good to see you!" Clare's squeal sounded out as soon as they walked into music. "How was your holiday?" she questioned, blatantly ignoring Eli's presence by his side.

"Fine, Clare," he murmured simply, walking past her, Eli's hand still held in his.

"I heard some _horrible_ rumours about you, you know, but I've been correcting them for everyone," she added, almost desperately. Darcy glanced towards her briefly as they sat down.

"I don't really care what everyone else things, Clare," he said simply. Clare chewed her lip in anxiousness.

"B – but everyone's been saying that you're engaged to –"

"My private life has very little to do with anyone – save a few – at this school, so I would advise that you don't listen to other people's gossip," he retorted simply. Clare looked absolutely furious, and for the first time that lesson, looked Eli straight in the eyes.

"Are you happy now, brat?" she questioned her furiously, stepping forwards, her eyes alight with anger.

"Pleased to see you again too, Clare," Eli snapped in response, stating at her desk with determination.

"Everyone knows, you know. That you're a freak. That you're a vile little –"

"Oh, well as long as I'm a _vile_ freak, I'm quite content," Eli retorted sarcastically, but that only angered Clare even more.

"Everyone hates you here! They all _know_ what you've done! You –"

"You will choose your words wisely, Clare," Darcy snapped darkly, his voice far more serious than Eli had ever heard him speak. "Because I will not take kindly to you insulting Elizabeth in front of me," he added angrily. Clare stopped in her tracks, her face twisted to that of complete confusion. She was clearly debating whether or not to continue getting her satisfaction by insulting Eli, and risk Darcy's censure, or step back, and remain bitter.

"Oh, I never meant to insult _you_, Darcy," she crooned finally, her voice turning into a thick, overly sweet honey, attempting to soothe her criticisms.

"You can insult me all you like, Clare," he replied stiffly. "But if you utter another _word_ against Elizabeth, you will be _very_ sorry," he informed her coolly. The class fell into complete silence.

"I don't need you to fight my battles, Darcy," she snapped under her breath. Darcy's fiery gaze moved from Clare to her profile. She was staring with angry determination at the table before her.

"I –"

"I think that will be enough," Llewellyn announced suddenly. Eli didn't look up. She was quite certain he had been in the room the whole time, but it made no difference. "Clare, sit down. Clearly everyone has had an eventful holiday, but I'm afraid I need to remind you that your performance assessment is coming up quite quickly, as well as the musical. Everyone in this class will be involved in some way, I'm afraid, because they need a band," he informed them all.

Eli's mind leapt at the musical. The casting auditions were to be in only a few days, but she didn't even know if she was going to try out. She might just back out –

No. That wouldn't be like her. She wasn't one to back out of a challenge – and she _wanted_ to sing Christine. She _wanted_ to sing in _The Phantom_. She wasn't going to let Clare frighten her out of it. She didn't need to prove to anyone that she was strong – anyone but herself.

"I thought we might review our pieces today. So we'll start with the Disney Theme Medley, from start to finish," Llewellyn continued to announce. Eli stood up in silence to move over to the piano. Staring at her hand, which was still joined with Darcy's, she realised that they would need to separate in order to play. Darcy reluctantly let go of her hand, and she couldn't have moved away from him faster.

The lesson went with comparative speed. Avoiding any eye contact, Eli was able to play the piano without any complaint. She could feel the burning glares of her classmates on her form, but she ignored them.

"Eli, a word, please?"

She sighed at the end of the lesson, knowing what was to come. She had both dreaded and anticipated it, but she knew that there were few people in the world she trusted enough to speak honestly with, and Llewellyn was one of those few.

"Is there something you'd like to talk to me about?" he asked her carefully, sitting on the edge of the desk as the class emptied. She glanced up to see Darcy standing by the door, waiting for her.

"I – I need to speak to sir for a moment. I'll be in the lounge soon," she informed Darcy. He met her gaze with his usual intense stare, before nodding, and departing the room. She sighed when he left, but if it was in relief or not, she didn't know.

"So is it true then?" he asked her curiously. She nodded, holding up her left hand. He took it in his, and glanced over the ring. "It's very pretty. It suits you," he complimented. She nodded once more, sitting on the edge of the desk in silence for a moment.

"Umm… I – I stayed with Headmistress du Bourg in the holidays," she began finally, her voice shaky. "Darcy was there, a – and his cousin. A few days ago, m – my parents told me that I have to marry him. Th – they're writing up contracts and pre-nuptials, a – and, well, I have two options at the moment, but b – both of them are going to break promises I made to myself, a – and I don't like breaking promises," she stated, after taking a long breath.

"And those are?" he questioned her patiently.

"I could run away. It took me until now to realise that Francie and Dorr aren't what I thought they were – they're not going to let me out of this. But I told myself that I would stay until the end of this term. I have a whole bunch of reasons for it – but the main one is that I don't _want_ to run away without trying to make it better," she began slowly. "And the second is… I could stay. But people will try to make me marry a man that I don't love, and who doesn't love me, and live a life that I don't want," she explained.

"Eli, whilst I don't think running away is the best option, maybe there are other ways to avoid getting married, if it's really what you don't want," he replied calmly. She sniffled, and shook her head.

"No, y – you don't understand," she murmured. "I promised that I would never just fold and run away from things that frightened me. But I also promised that I would never compromise who I am. A – and a part of me _wants_ to stay," she explained.

"Oh… He's the boy you spoke to me about," Llewellyn realised suddenly. She nodded.

"That's why it's hard. If I run away, I'm compromising who I am, and I'm giving up without a fight. If I stay, I might have a chance of getting my life back," she explained shakily. "M – my Dad kind of… well, he called me a disappointment. He doesn't approve of this marriage, but for the same reasons that he doesn't approve of my going out with friends or not wanting to become a doctor," she continued, wiping her eyes with the sleave of her cardigan. "I don't want to lose him. But if I run away, I'll lose everyone. My family, my friends, even _Darcy_, and that prospect terrifies me even more than staying with him," she stammered out. "If I stay, I might be able to fix things. But that'll just make it harder for me to go if I can't," she explained.

"Eli, I can't tell you what to do here," Llewellyn sighed sadly in response. "How are you holding up with Darcy? He seems very attentive to you. He hasn't… he doesn't seem the kind, but… has he-?" he veered off questioningly.

"We kissed," she announced suddenly. "Just after I found out. I was freaking out, because I'd just had a huge argument with my Dad, and he took me out for air, and we were talking, and then he just… _kissed_ me," she murmured. "I was so scared, but I couldn't stop kissing him back," she admitted.

"Eli, you only need to tell me what you're comfortable with, but did he… do anything he shouldn't have done?" he questioned her softly, trying to meet her eyes. She gave a small sob, and wiped away more tears from her eyes.

"I was lying down, a – and he was kind of on top of me, a – and he kept on touching me, a – and he didn't just kiss me on the lips, he – he kissed me in… other places," she stammered out, her voice choked. "He asked m – me how I wa – was feeling, a – and I told him I was s – scared," she continued nervously. Llewellyn sighed sadly, and ran his hand through his hair.

"I'm so sorry," he muttered apologetically. "Did he stop, when you told him you were scared?" he questioned her carefully. Eli chewed her lip softly, and began twisting the ring around her finger nervously. Finally she shook her head in reply. He gave another small sigh. "Can you tell me what happened next?" he asked her quietly. She nodded, hiding back another small sob.

"I – I was so frightened. A – and he touched m – me, where I – I didn't want h – him to touch me, and I just – I freaked out a – all of a sudden. I backed into the c – corner, a – and I couldn't move, o – or breathe, he had to g – get a bag for me to b – breathe in, and he said he was sorry, but I was _scared_," she continued anxiously. "I ran outside, and I stayed there for a long time. His c – cousin found me, and he convinced me to go inside. B – but I'm still so confused, because I don't know if he likes me, and I – I think… _I'm_ starting to like _him_. A – and I don't think I can leave until I know," she finished, choking back another sob. She felt like such an idiot, crying in front of Llewellyn like that, but she knew he would understand.

"Eli, I need you to understand that what Darcy did was _wrong_, okay?" he said firmly to her, trying to meet her eyes. She stared at her shoes in silence. "He shouldn't have done that to you. I know that he probably didn't want to hurt you, or frighten you, because he's not like that, but he should have stopped before it got that far," he said calmly.

"I'm a slut," she sobbed quietly to herself, covering her face in shame as she thought of her actions.

"No, Eli, you were put in a position that wasn't fair to you. Darcy knew what he was doing, but you didn't," he replied comfortingly. "He probably had no idea that you were so frightened, and inexperienced. It's not your fault, and it's only partially his. He shouldn't have done what he did, but I doubt he understood your side of it until you pulled away," he continued.

"B – but what should I do?" she questioned desperately, reluctantly removing her hands from her face.

"Wait."

"You think I should?" she questioned. He nodded firmly, his golden eyes flashing.

"Eli, you've put enormous trust in me by telling me of your troubles, and I want to be able to repay that as best I can. I can safely say that you're carrying a huge weight on your shoulders. You're behaving in a very intelligent and understandable matter. You're looking at the situation as best you can," he replied. "From what I know, William is a very good young man. He wouldn't be engaged to you if he didn't feel like he could happily live the rest of his life with you. I'm quite certain he likes you – but that's something for you to decide. You could just speak to him, or wait, and see if his or your feelings change, or become more apparent," he stated rationally. "Waiting will give you some time to fix things with your father, and time to realise your feelings. When you feel it's time for you to go, you can still go, and know that you tried your best, and didn't compromise who you are," he explained.

Eli took a deep breath, and nodded. His idea sounded rational, and very sensible.

"And when it comes time for you to leave, I want to talk to me first, okay?" he added. She met his eyes, and smiled softly. "The fact that you trust me enough to talk about all of this… it means a lot, Eli. And I promise you that I'm going to help you as best I can, and I'll always try to protect you, okay? You're a very special young girl, but you're going to need a hand to get though this," he continued. Eli felt more tears sparkle in her eyes as she nodded softly. "I understand you're pretty close with George Knightley, right?" he questioned, and she nodded. "Talking to George could help too. He's very sensible, clever, and knows quite a lot about unrequited love," he added, causing her to laugh.

"I asked him about Emilia. He said I shouldn't interfere," she informed him. Llewellyn chuckled.

"Yes, it's very much his own business… He only confided the truth to me after I'd known him for a very long time. I wouldn't press him to speak of his own experiences, but if you feel something for Darcy, and don't know how he feels about you, it could help to speak to him about it. He could give you a useful perspective," he instructed her. "Whilst I… know what you're going through, I think that George would be of more assistance to you. My case is far more complicated than his, and it might be easier to talk to someone you know a little better," he added, somewhat bitterly.

"Sir? I trust you. You were one of the first people I wanted to talk to this about," she informed him timidly. He smiled softly.

"Eli, I can't help you as much as I wish I could. My experience is different to yours, but I know what it is to have feelings for someone that you don't understand, and don't think can be returned," he sighed.

"Did it have a happy ending?" she asked hopefully. He chuckled, and stared at a point on the wall behind her, thinking over his words.

"Not as of yet," he admitted thoughtfully. "But what do you see as a happy ending?" he questioned curiously. Eli sighed. She had thought on that question herself many times before.

"I don't know. I just – don't know anymore," she murmured finally.

"Give it time. See if you can get through to your parents, and try to understand your own feelings, and well as Darcy's. You're strong enough to survive," he assured her. Sighing, Eli slid off the table.

"Thank you, sir," she said finally, giving him a small smile. "You've helped. You really have. I'm going to think about what you said, and I'll tell you what I'm thinking before I make any major decisions," she assured him. He smiled in response.

"Thank you for trusting me, Eli," he replied.

"Do you think you're going to get your happy ending, sir?" she asked suddenly, pausing her trip to the door. Llewellyn didn't reply for a few seconds, staring at his shoes with a look of deep thought.

"For her sake, perhaps it's best if I suffered alone. She's better off without me," he replied finally. As if only just realising what he had said, he gave an apologetic laugh, shaking his head as if with his own silliness. "I don't want to burden you with my troubles. You had best go to Darcy. Talk to him," he advised with a warm smile. Nodding, Eli slipped out of the classroom.

Howl sighed as he watched her go. Elizabeth Bennett reminded him of Toni. They were both stubborn, strong, creative, and almost seemed to… glow. It saddened him to see such a brilliant little spark constantly dimmed down by those around her, but he could only hope that Eli's problems resolved themselves eventually. She had many obstacles before her, but he knew that at least _she_ could overcome them.

Glancing at his watch, he gave an annoyed little sigh. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled forth the small bottle of pills that never left his side. He gave a bitter laugh as he swallowed two down. Eli was lucky that she had a chance to fix her problems with time. He wanted time, so desperately. He wanted time with Toni, time to love her, time to be the man he wanted to be for her. Well, he had some time ahead of him, but he knew that for Toni's sake, it had to be alone.

~ * ~

"Are you alright?" Darcy asked her with curious concern as she stepped into the student lounge. Avoiding the stares of those already in the room, she sat down at the study desk next to him.

"I'm fine. I just needed to talk to Llewellyn about something," she informed him simply.

"Can I ask what about?" Darcy questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"You can ask, but I won't answer," she replied honestly, meeting his eyes with no fear. Sensing something had changed, Darcy curiously probed onwards.

"It was something personal, wasn't it," he stated. She sighed, pulling out her pencil case.

"Yes."

"Something that you can discuss with your teacher, but not your fiancée?"

"Pseudo-fiancée," she corrected him simply. He gave an annoyed scoff at her term.

"You're wearing the ring I gave you," he reminded her.

"You can't use a temporary engagement as something to hold against me, Darcy," she argued shortly.

"William."

"What?"

"I want you to call me William," he requested. Blinking in surprise, Eli found herself nodding.

"Alright then… but you have to call me Eli," she retorted. He shook his head in disagreement. "Why not? If I'm going to call you what _you_ want, you should be calling me what _I_ want," she rationalised.

"We're going to be husband and wife one day. I want us to be able to address each other with the names that few others use. It makes us seem… closer," he theorised. Thinking over his words, Eli chewed her lip slightly.

"We are _not_ going to be husband and wife, but I'll let you call me Elizabeth, if it's so damn important to you," she replied snappishly. He nodded in response, and pulled his highlighter from his pencil case. "Oh. And leave Clare for me," she added.

"She was insulting you."

"I didn't mind when you helped me in the hallway earlier, but when it comes to Clare, you have to let _me_ handle her. And I assure you that I _can_ handle her," she said firmly. Frowning, but then finally giving in, he nodded in agreement.

"Have you decided on your audition piece for the musical yet?" he asked her after a short pause.

"I was going to do _'Think of Me_'," she replied. He nodded.

"Good idea," he murmured.

"And you?"

"And I what?"

"What song are you doing?" she questioned. He blinked in surprise.

"Oh. I don't audition. I was given a part immediately," he answered, before turning back to his books. Eli felt her jaw slacken. How _arrogant_ of him to demand that _she_ audition in the first lesson of music class when he hadn't exercised the same curtesy in a bloody musical production!

She studied in silence alongside him for the rest of the period. Occasionally she would catch him, out of the corner of her eye, staring at her, but she learnt quickly to tune it out. When the recess bell rang, she began packing up her books, once more, in silence.

"Are you staying in here?" he questioned, he too sliding his books into his bag. She nodded. "I was going to go down to the cafeteria for a minute. Did you want me to get you anything?" he questioned. She shook her head.

"I'm not really hungry," she said quite honestly.

"Are you sure? You look a bit pale. You should probably have some juice or something," he suggested. Eli glanced over to the crowds of people entering the lounge as they spoke.

"I'm fine," she assured him.

"You probably are, but I'm getting you a juice anyway," he said simply, noting her glances. "Do you want me to stay?" he asked her quietly. She shook her head firmly. "I'll be back in a minute then," he muttered, turning away. The crowd parted for him to step past with ease, before the whispering grew to very audible levels. Rolling her eyes, Eli moved over to the couch that she and Emilia usually inhabited, ignoring them all.

"Hey," she heard her friend greet. She flashed Emilia a brief smile as she appeared in the crowds of whispering people, jumping down on the couch beside her. "Let me see the ring then!" she requested firstly. Laughing as she displayed her hand, Eli realised just how much she wanted to discuss everything with her friend.

"I actually really like it. I just wish that the circumstances were different," she admitted quietly. Emilia nodded in understanding.

"We can't really talk here, but my sister is still taking over my house, so I'm at George's tonight. Maybe you should come over for dinner, and you can talk to the both of us," she offered.

"I'd like that. There aren't many people I can discuss this with," she sighed in reply.

"Have you spoken to Jay?" she asked curiously.

"Uhh… she knows that I'm supposedly 'engaged', but she doesn't know much else. She's convinced that Dar – I mean, William, and I have been having a torrid affair for months," she replied jokingly. Laughing, Emilia grasped her friend's hand.

"Well, I'm here for you to talk about it," she assured her warmly.

"Thanks. Is Charlotte here? I don't think I can talk to her about it – but we didn't speak at all during the holidays, so I feel really bad about neglecting her," she replied, glancing around the room.

"Oh. Uhh… she quit school," Emilia informed her quietly.

"_What_?" Eli exclaimed in shock. "She _quit_?"

"She got engaged to Colin Collins over the break. He doesn't think she needs to 'further her education'," she explained with a sigh. "I've tried to convince her, but… I don't know, she's changed recently. Her Mum is pretty pushy, I think she finally got her wish and transformed her daughter into a society Barbie," she added.

"I can't believe it!" Eli exclaimed in shock.

"It's a pretty weird world we're a part of, hun," she replied apologetically. "Oh, hey Darcy," she greeted suddenly, glancing up to see who had joined them.

"Emilia," he acknowledged. "Have a good holiday?" he enquired.

"Meh. Çomme çe, çomme ça," she replied with a shrug. "Spent a lot of time with my nephew. He's going to be a pretty big boy," she commented with a smile.

"Jon is rather tall," he conceded in reply. "I got you a juice," he informed Eli.

"I told you that I was fine," she reminded him. He shrugged.

"If you fainted I'd have to pick you up," he replied simply, passing the bottle to her.

"Thanks," she replied, with only a slight roll of her eyes.

"Does anyone get the feeling we're being watched?" Emilia commented suddenly, glancing around the room. Almost every pair of eyes was glued to them.

"Anyone have anything to say?" Eli questioned loudly enough for them all to hear her. After no reply sounded, she gave a little grin. "Clearly we just have stuff on our faces," she deduced simply.

"I was thinking of stealing Eli tonight for dinner with George and I," Emilia informed Darcy. "Any objections?" she questioned, raising a brow.

"No, we weren't doing anything," he shrugged simply, sipping from his own bottle of juice.

"Good to know I have your permission."

"Good to know you give a damn about it."

"Wow. You guys, I can feel the love radiating right onto me here," Emilia drawled sarcastically. She ignored the two eye rolls she instantly received, instead changing the topic to that of what had occurred over the two week break.

Eli tore her eyes away from Darcy's with some great effort, wishing that it wasn't so insanely difficult for her to do so. _Why_ was it so hard for her? She was attracted to him – but did she _really_ like him?

"Are you okay?" Emilia asked her quietly at the end of break, as Eli prepared to go to English Extension. Darcy had just disappeared for his business class – she felt a mixture of relief and disappointment as he left her side.

"Not really," she muttered truthfully. Eli surveyed her with questioning pale eyes.

"Well… George is going to be picking us up in the carpark this afternoon. Please come," she practically begged. Eli nodded in response, and allowed Emilia to head off to her class.

Fixing her jaw in determination, she started down the opposite end of the hall.

"Vulture!"

"Freak!"

"Gold digger!"

Sighing, she continued her walk. The idiots around her didn't deserve her scorn.

~ * ~

"Alright, have we got everything?" Emilia questioned quite seriously, looking over the spread on the living room coffee table. It was filled with boxes of take away of every kind, juice, water, soft drink and tissues at the ready.

"_Yes_, for the fifth time, we have everything," George retorted with exasperation. "Now let the girl talk before we all turn grey," he demanded. Rolling her eyes, Emilia picked up a container of noodles and hugged it to her in defence.

"Go on then Eli, we're pretty curious," she replied, turning to her unusually quiet companion.

Taking a deep breath, Eli began her explanation of the last two weeks events, including her daily etiquette lessons, music practise with Darcy, spending time with Richard, and even the picnic by the creek. She calmly and quietly informed them of the argument between her parents and headmistress, pausing as she reached the difficult part of the story.

"Darcy took me out to get some air. I was freaking out a bit, I was quite prepared to scratch people's eyes out," she sighed, pushing her egg roll around with her chopsticks. "We talked for a little bit, and then… he kissed me," she managed to finally get out.

"What happened?" Emilia exclaimed in shock, hanging onto her friend's every word. Eli shrugged.

"I pulled back and ran out of the room. I stayed outside for a while, and then Richard came to talk to me. He explained that there wasn't much I could do, but I should give it a shot," she replied simply, purposely not informing them of the true extent of the kiss. "He took me back inside, and I went to speak with Francie and Headmistress du Bourg. We had a pretty long screaming match, but Francie pretty much blocked all my options. We aren't 'officially' engaged, but we might as well be. They've given me till the end of the term to adjust to it," she sighed.

"What are you going to do?" George asked her softly. She shrugged.

"I spoke to Llewellyn about my options. He thinks I should wait a little while, to see if things can improve. Otherwise… I don't know," she said simply.

"You can stay with me, Eli," Emilia insisted. "Or George. Either one of us. You don't have to go back to Australia – we'll make sure that Francie can't force you to marry Darcy," she said firmly, taking her friend's hand in a symbol of comfort.

"She's right, Eli. You can always stay with me or Emilia, I'd rather that you did instead of running away," George added. "If it comes to a point in time where you feel like running away is your only option, you can stay here. Your parents will worry if you just disappear, but this will let them see that you aren't going to let them tell you what to do," he rationalised. Eli nodded, and sniffled slightly, wiping away a stray tear with the sleave of her cardigan.

"Thank you, both of you," she muttered softly. "I'm just – _so_ in over my head. I don't know what my next move will be," she murmured.

"Get to know Darcy. I know you don't like him that much – but he's a really great guy, when you get past his exterior," Emilia replied.

"I'm engaged to a guy that I've never even been on a date with," Eli thought aloud. George chuckled in response.

"Well tell him to take you out on a date. Go and see a movie or something with him," he suggested. Eli sighed, and nodded slowly. "He can go to Emilia's party with you. That'll be a good opportunity for you two to get to know each other," he added thoughtfully.

"Shit. I _completely_ forgot about my birthday," Emilia realised suddenly.

"Your birthday? God, you should have told me!" Eli exclaimed.

"Meh. I'll only be eighteen," she shrugged simply. "Anyway, I just want a small thing. Are you willing to host it for me, Gigi?" she asked George hopefully. He rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Fine, but not too many guests. And _you_ can do the planning, because you always redo whatever I do," he replied firmly. Emilia beamed in response, quickly hugging her friend tightly. Eli allowed laughter to bubble in her throat, reducing her sorrow instantly. She was so happy to get her worries off her chest, and realise that there was more going on in her life than just the misery of her current situation.

"Hey George," Eli began suddenly, a few hours later as George was driving her home. "I was talking to Llewellyn about… everything that happened today, and he said a few things that kind of surprised me," she stated.

"Well, Howl is like that," George mused quietly, keeping his eyes on the road before him.

"Is he in a relationship with someone?" she asked curiously. Sighing quietly, George looked rather thoughtful before he replied.

"Sort of. It's complicated," he answered. Raising an eyebrow, Eli pressed on.

"Sort of? How is it complicated?" she questioned.

"I can't tell you the extent of it. He doesn't like people to know about… a certain aspect of his life," he explained slowly. "He loves Toni very much, and she loves him too. But he has certain… obstacles," he informed her carefully.

"Like with you and Emilia?" she questioned. He rolled his eyes.

"Eli, don't go there," he said warningly, before sighing. "There's a part of his life that he has no control over – and he thinks… wells, he thinks it means he's incapable of spending his life with her. It's not his fault, but he's always had a belief that he's not good enough for Toni. He has plenty of excuses," he muttered in reply.

"What kind of excuses?" she questioned curiously.

"His personal favourites are 'too dangerous', 'too difficult', oh – and 'too old' is a new one," he answered.

"Too old? How old is she?" she exclaimed probingly.

"About nineteen, twenty, something like that. In a few years the age difference won't mean a thing, but he's paranoid about it," he answered. "Listen, Eli, there isn't much I can tell you about it. He's very personal about it. We hardly ever discuss Toni. He probably only told me because I've been friends with her for a while. They're very off and on. You'll probably see her at Emilia's birthday party, they're cousins," he explained. "But you can't try and interfere. Howl's life is really complicated, and I know he doesn't want anyone else getting mixed up in it," he added sternly.

"I won't," Eli swore quietly. Her mind was abuzz with questions. "What's Toni like?" she asked finally, settling on one.

"She's very nice. You can see the relation between she and Emilia, but Toni only moved to England about four years ago. She's ridiculously beautiful, young, vibrant, funny, clever, and pretty weird, too. She's perfect for Howl, really," he answered with a shrug.

"I hope things work out. I really want Llewellyn to be happy. He's like an uncle or something to me," she muttered thoughtfully.

"He's a good guy. But I can't say anything else. He'd kill me," he replied finally, ending the discussion.

Eli sighed as she stared out the car window. Why was love _always_ so confusing?

**A/N: I'm only a few chapters away from finishing the story, but I'm ten chapters or so ahead of you guys who are reading it, so there's still a long wait. This is the first real Llewellyn bit you see, but soon you meet Toni! Only music practical and Englsih extention left guys – I'll be finished all my exams soon! Yay! Then it's on to year twelve! AHHHH!**


	21. Auditions, fights and tantrums

"_I feel her, I see her, the sun caught in raven hair  
Is blazing in me out of all control!  
Like fire, hellfire, this fire in my skin,  
This burning desire, is turning me to sin_

_It's not my fault, I'm not to blame,  
It is the gypsy girl, the witch who sent this flame!  
It's not my fault, if in God's plan,  
He made the devil so much stronger than a man!_"  
-The Hunchback of Notre Dame, 'Hellfire'

"Master Darcy? Your Aunt wishes me to inform you that dinner is going to be served in fifteen minutes," a timid maid stammered out from behind William's bedroom door.

"Tell her I'm ill," he called out as a response, before once more burying his head in his silk covered pillows. He heard the maid give a nervous squeak before she hurried away, but it was all white noise to him.

What was _wrong_ with Elizabeth? Why did she shy away from his every touch? He knew she felt the same way – it was in her eyes every time he was near! It was written across her lips as when kissed her, hidden in her pleasured whimpers as he started to discover her body. Why was she so scared? Why was she resisting him? What had he done to deserve her ignorance?

He needed to vent. Rising up to cross the room to his piano, he began to play the first thing he could think of. He was angry. He was angry that he had pushed her, and was now suffering the consequences. He was angry that what should have sped up their relationship had suddenly caused it to screech to a stop. He was angry that he couldn't get any closer to Elizabeth due to his own foolishness. Damn her! Why was she such a horrible temptation?

He played until his fingers were aching, and he collapsed against the piano, resting his head against the edge.

He was still angry.

~ * ~

Eli walked to the music rooms in silence. Clutching her yellow form in hand, she stepped up to the noticeboard to check her time. She still had ten minutes to wait until her audition.

Sitting down quietly, avoiding the glances of those around her, she pulled forth her French homework, and began to conjugate her verbs in silence.

"Hey."

"Oh. Hi, Gershom," she greeted quietly, glancing up as he took his place on the floor beside her. Peeking at her work, he gave a small chuckle.

"French. I never had any patience for it," he muttered. "So, I heard you had a pretty big holiday," he commented.

"It was eventful," she conceded simply with a shrug.

"When's the wedding?" he asked, almost bitterly.

"We aren't officially engaged. There won't be a wedding," she informed him slightly stiffly. Gershom raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Really? Then why are you wearing his promise ring?" he inquired curiously.

"It's just a curtesy. It's more complicated than what you've probably heard around the school," she replied, slightly coolly.

"I can imagine so. But you should be enjoying the ride," he commented. "I mean, Darcy is seen as a God now, for landing the prize, and you're the object of every girl's jealousy. Have you noticed that a few of them have already started copying your hair style, and wearing the same things as you?" he questioned.

"Gershom, you might not have figured it out yet, but this school has a uniform. Of _course_ we're all going to dress the same," she pointed out, to which he replied with a chuckle.

"But the little variations you have. Like your shoes, for example, and your bracelets. You're like a God to them," he grinned.

"Well they haven't exactly been too friendly to me," she snapped bitterly, turning back to her French work.

"So which part are you going for?" he asked her curiously, after realising that he couldn't push the topic any further.

"Christine."

"Wow. You're going up against Clare? That's pretty brave," he commented, with a low whistle. "I'm going for Raoul, myself. I _wanted_ to be the Phantom, but your betrothed beat me to it," he sighed.

"Darcy is going to be the Phantom?" she exclaimed in surprise.

"Didn't you know? He always gets the leads without having to audition or anything. Comes from being the Headmistress' nephew," he replied simply. "I don't even think he likes it. But he's good, I'll have to admit," he muttered bitterly.

Eli chewed her lip in confusion. If he was going to be the Phantom, and she auditioned for Christine… they would have to play alongside each other. They would have to touch, they would have to kiss. She didn't know if she could do it.

"Elizabeth Bennett," came the call for her name, as one of the drama teachers stepped out of the classroom for a moment.

"Good luck," Gershom wished her with a grin, blowing her a playful kiss as she rose to her feet. Trembling slightly, Eli walked into the classroom with baited breath.

"Good morning, Eli," Llewellyn greeted her warmly. "Have you warmed up?" he enquired, to which she nodded, and glanced over the faces of the other teachers. There were three, all sitting at desks at the front of the classroom, much like she had seen in _Australian Idol_, with their pens and papers and folders.

"Which part will you be auditioning for?" the second music teacher questioned her almost immediately, looking her up and down with his dark brown eyes.

"Christine Daaé," she replied, her voice regaining some of its strength. His eyebrows rose slightly.

"You'll be our second person to audition for that role then," he commented. Eli nodded. She had seen Clare parading around the lounge earlier after she had come back from her audition, boasting of how much the teachers had _loved_ her.

"And the last," the drama teacher commented, glancing over her list. "So what will you be singing?" she asked, glancing back up to her.

"_Think of Me_," she replied.

"Auditioning with a piece from the musical? Brave, Eli," Llewellyn chuckled, giving her a warm, comforting smile. She returned it with slight nervousness, but it gave her strength. "Alright then, sing as soon as you're ready," he instructed, taking forth his pen.

Eli was silent for a moment, as she called on each little technique and trick she had practised with Darcy. She took three long, deep breathes, before the note finally flew from her lips.

"_Think of me, think of me fondly, _

_When we're said goodbye_

_Remember me, once in a while,_

_Please promise me you'll try!_

_When you find, that once again you long,_

_To take your heart back and be free,_

_If you ever find a moment,_

_Spare a thought for me!_"

Her voice was crystal clear, and she hit every note perfectly. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, she thanked Darcy for his incredibly high standards. She wouldn't have felt confident enough to sing that song without him having tutored her.

"_We never said, our love was ever green,_

_Or as unchanging as the sea,_

_But if you can still remember,_

_Stop and think of me!_

_Think of all the things we're shared and seen,_

_Don't think about the way things_

_Might have been…_

_Think of me, think of me waking,_

_Silent and resigned_

_Imagine me, trying too hard,_

_To put you from my mind!_

_Recall those days, think back on all those times,_

_Think of the things we'll never do,_

_There will never be a day when,_

_I don't think of you…_"

She could feel him around her as she sung. His warm hands covering her diaphragm, his words whispering quietly in her ear, instructing her to focus on her projection, her pronunciation, her breathing, and combined all of that knowledge with the natural urge to just let her voice run free.

"_We never said, you love was evergreen,_

_Or as unchanging as the sea,_

_But please promise me,_

_That sometimes, you will think…_"

She eased into the cadenza gently, her voice rising and descending in pitch perfectly, notes dancing around the room with ease.

"_Of… me!_"

She finished with a strong E flat, her body exhausted, but satisfied that she had done her best.

"Eli, that was…"

Llewellyn looked at her in complete and total shock, as did the two other teachers. They simply stared in awe at her. She shifted nervously, unsure of what to do.

"Amazing. Truly incredible," Llewellyn breathed finally. "I mean, your voice was fantastic at the start of term, but that… Eli, I'm at a loss for words," he said honestly.

"Can we give her the part now?" the other music teacher questioned.

"Uhh… I don't know. I think we have to watch all the other auditions first," the drama teacher muttered in reply.

"But there are no more auditions for this part."

"We should watch the rest first, before we announce who got which part," Llewellyn conceded, before glancing back over to Eli. "But don't worry. Off the record, you have the part of Christine," he assured her. Feeling a smile creep onto her lips, Eli's heart was soaring. "A list will be posted this lunch about who got lead roles, but it won't say who got what. In the first rehearsal, when all the roles are finally assigned, you need to try to look surprised, okay?" he instructed. Beaming, Eli nodded.

"Thank you, sir," she replied excitedly.

"Now off you go. You did extremely well," he praised her. Giving a sigh of relief, and her thanks to the teachers, she ducked out of the classroom, confident that not even the stares of other students could dampen her mood.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she stepped into the hall. The hall was filled with students, all crowded around in a circle.

"What the hell are you _doing_?" she exclaimed, pushing past people to get into the centre. Darcy and Gershom were rolling around on the floor, throwing punches and kicks at each other at every opportunity they could get. "Stop! Both of you!" she cried angrily, but her demand was directed to Darcy – he seemed to be winning. "Get off him! _Stop_!" she ordered them, stepping closer, trying to pull Darcy away from Gershom.

"Get back Elizabeth!" he cried in reply, wrenching his arm away.

"Leave him alone! You'll both get yourselves hurt!" she demanded angrily, trying to stop him as he took another lunge at Gershom, ignoring her pleas for him to stop.

"What the _hell_ is going on here?" she heard Llewellyn exclaim as he stepped into the hallway. "Darcy! Wickham! Get away from each other _now_!" he cried, trying to push past eager students.

"Stop it Will! Just leave him _alone_!" she cried, once more stepping between them in an attempt to cease their bickering. She pulled at Darcy's arm, trying in vain to cease his actions.

"Eli, get out of –"

"_Ow_!" she cried angrily, stumbling forwards and clutching the side of her face. She felt like her right temple had exploded in pain. She fell to her knees, her hands pressed tightly on the now throbbing wound. Both Llewellyn and Darcy cried out as she stumbled, their voices filled with anxiousness.

"Shit, Eli, I'm so sorry!" she heard Gershom stammer out, his voice jagged as he fought to regain his breath.

"Gershom! My office, _now_!" Llewellyn cried out angrily. Eli didn't see him go, as her eyes were screwed tight, but she did feel a pair of hands gently try to inspect the side of her face. "Darcy, make sure she's alright. I'll be having a word with you too," Llewellyn continued, his voice tense. "Everyone else who doesn't need to be here can go – or I'll hand out detentions to each and every one of you," he swore. Eli heard the vague grumble of the crowd as their footsteps grew fainter.

"Move your hands, Elizabeth," Darcy ordered her patiently.

"Why do I _always_ seem to get injured around you?" she asked him snappishly, reluctantly allowing him to remove her hands from her temple.

"Darcy, take her to the nurse and make sure she's okay. Then you can go to my office too," Llewellyn ordered him. Opening her eyes slowly, and looking up, she saw Llewellyn crouched down close to her, inspecting the side of her face along with Darcy. He had a look of anger on his face that she had never seen before; he was pale with emotion, his eyes flashing darkly. She glanced briefly at Darcy, he looked even worse than Llewellyn, fear glinting for the first time in his perfect eyes.

"I'm fine," Eli replied angrily, unsteadily trying to rise to her feet. She didn't want to be anywhere near Darcy at that moment. She felt a handkerchief being pressed to the side of her face, and was surprised to see blood on her pale hands.

"Take her, and then come straight back here, Mister Darcy," Llewellyn ordered finally. Darcy nodded, and allowed Eli to hold the handkerchief to her head as he led her down the hall.

"Elizabeth, I didn't want you to get involved. He was trying to hit me, not you," Darcy informed her tersely. She glanced to him in anger, he was nursing a slightly bloodied lip, and his skin had been split just above his eyebrow, a trickle of crimson blood rolling down to his cheek.

"We can talk about this later," she snapped quietly, practically shaking in anger as she glanced around to see the curious stares and whisperings of students.

"I didn't mean for you to get hurt. It was Gershom's fault, not mine," he tried to explain.

"William, we will _talk about this later_," she repeated angrily. He led her to a small, brightly lit room not far from the front offices, with a plump, bored looking woman flicking through a magazine in the corner. Her eyes widened in surprise as she saw who was entering.

"William Darcy? Why I _never_. Getting into a fight with your fiancée?" she questioned furiously, rising to her feet.

"She stepped into a disagreement and was injured by the other boy involved," Darcy stated evenly.

"Well you can sit down too. I'll but some butterfly clips on that eye," she snapped, immediately leading Eli to the bench, and taking away the ruined handkerchief. "It's not so bad, little missy. It's only minor – but head injuries tend to bleed the most. Give me a minute and you'll be fine,' she assured her, wiping away the blood with a small damp cloth. Eli winced at the sting of alcohol, but said nothing else. "Who was the other boy? Was he hurt?" she then questioned.

"Gershom Wickham. I don't know, or care, if he was," Darcy answered tersely. "Can you give her something for the pain? He hit her quite hard," he requested.

"I don't need anything, Darcy. Just go and see Llewellyn," Eli snapped coldly in response.

"He needs to have a butterfly clip on his eyebrow, missy. Wait just a second," she said, taking out a small box from one of the cupboards. Eli refused to meet his eye as the nurse fixed up the cut. "No, _sit_. I'll call your parents to come pick you up as soon as I'm finished with _this_ one," she snapped, when Eli tried to stand up. She sat back down in silence as the nurse moved over to fix Darcy's eye.

"Can I go now?" Darcy requested as the nurse practically thrust the little clip over his eyebrow. She scowled at him.

"_Yes_, you can go. And don't you _dare_ get into another fight involving a defenceless young girl," she snapped.

"I don't need to go home. I feel fine," Eli stated calmly. The nurse raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure? It's no trouble for me to call," she replied. Eli shook her head firmly.

"I have stuff I need to do today," she replied, sliding off the bench. "Thanks for this," she muttered, gesturing to her plaster.

"Not a problem, Miss Bennett," the nurse replied politely. Picking up her bag, Eli stormed straight past Darcy and down the hall.

"Elizabeth!" Darcy called after her, but she didn't turn around. She was headed straight to Llewellyn's office. She knew Darcy would follow her, and it was the only way she could guarantee that he would go. "Elizabeth, wait! It wasn't my fault!" he tried to reason, but she made no response, turning into the music hallway. She ignored the hushed whisperings of those around her, determined to hold off her berating of Darcy until it could be done in a more private setting.

"Go in," she ordered him, stopping outside of Llewellyn's office. The hallway was abandoned, the excitement of a fight having worn off. "_Now_," she practically growled in anger, pointing at the door.

"Wait for me. We need to talk," he requested her as he moved towards the door.

"I _said_ later," she snapped darkly. He gave an annoyed sigh, and ran his hand through his hair. He looked like he was about to say something as the door opened, and a very angry looking Llewellyn stepped out.

"You can both come in. I think Eli would appreciate an explanation as to why she was just punched in the face," he said tersely, pulling the door open fully as they walked in.

Eli glanced around. Llewellyn's office wasn't huge, but it had a nice atmosphere to it. He had a couch in one corner and a few armchairs, a nice desk and a couple of chairs, the walls lined with pictures of album covers and live concerts, interesting musical artefacts sitting in cabinets on the walls, like a very old looking mandolin, as if it were on museum display. It was somewhat cluttered, but quite nice. Her eyes shifted over to Gershom, who sat in one of the chairs in front of Llewellyn's desk, his head hung low. She could see from her position that he was in worse shape than Darcy, with several cuts and bruises covering his face.

"Sit," Llewellyn ordered Darcy with anger, stepping behind his desk. Eli took a chair between the two of them, sitting in silence. "Darcy, explain your side to this story," he demanded shortly.

"I was walking through the hall. Wickham made an inappropriate comment, and I turned around," he stated simply. "I told him to back off, he refused, and we started to argue. He pushed me first, and so I retaliated," continued, with as little emotion as possible. "Elizabeth tried to stop us, and Wickham punched her in the side of the head," he finished calmly.

"I hope you two both realise how _stupid_ and petty this whole ordeal has been – and how your actions have not only harmed your reputations, and the reputations of this establishment, but also an innocent individual who tried to stop you from making complete and total _asses_ of yourselves!" he practically growled, his voice dripping with anger as he slammed his fist on the table to finish his statement. "Now this could have been a _lot_ worse. Any one of you could have been seriously injured, not to mention _Eli _ – but luckily, other than a few cuts and bruises, only your _egos_ were the victims!" he cried furiously.

"Sorry, Eli. Didn't mean to," Gershom sniffed as a reply.

"Don't talk to her," Darcy and Llewellyn said simultaneously. After glaring at Darcy, Llewellyn continued.

"Eli, if you have anything you'd like to put in, please feel free to do so. These two idiots need as much chastising as they can get," he threw in, trying to keep his voice calm. Eli thought on his words for a moment before replying.

"No. I have nothing to say to either of you. You're both idiots," she said simply.

"Eli, _he_ started it, he's always walking around like he owns the –"

"Do _not_ speak to her!" Darcy ordered Gershom angrily. Both their eyes flashed in an unspoken duel as they glared at each other.

"You can both spend your lunchtimes in detention for the next two weeks. Now get out of my site – the pair of you make me sick," Llewellyn finished angrily. Darcy stood up immediately and stormed out of the classroom, Gershom following in silence. Llewellyn sighed, leaning forwards to he was resting his elbows on his desk, and running his hands through his hair. "Come on then, let's have a look at that head," he murmured, standing up, and peering at the side of Eli's face.

"Boys are stupid," she murmured bitterly.

"Yes, on a whole, we are," Llewellyn chuckled. "It doesn't look too bad. And if you put your hair over it you won't even see it," he added, trying to remain cheerful, but there was something pained lingering in his eyes. "Don't let him hurt you. _Ever_, okay?" he requested protectively. Eli gave a small smile.

"I don't intend on it. I should go and wack both of them over the side of the head," she replied cheekily. Llewellyn chuckled in amusement.

"Good idea. Hit them both once for me," he requested. Eli stood, and with a small, brief smile, disappeared from the room, only to find Darcy and Gershom both waiting in angry silence for her.

"Wow. You could cut the sexual tension out here with a knife," she commented dryly, looking between them. She rolled her eyes, and tried to push down the anger rising within her once again, before she turned heel and started down the hall, ignoring both of them.

"Eli, wait, I need to –"

"Don't you _get_ it, Gershom?" Darcy called back angrily after following Eli, turning quickly to take his place beside Eli. He grasped her hand tightly in his, his eyes filled with fire as he glared at his opponent. "She's not yours. You can't talk to her – you have _no_ right," he snapped furiously.

"I'm not _yours_ either, Darcy!" Eli cried, pulling her arm away from his, and sending him an angry glare. She turned away from him to continue down the hall.

"Elizabeth, we need to talk!" Darcy replied, speaking through gritted teeth as he followed her. "Don't test me, Elizabeth! I won't let you walk away, not for some stupid fight with the world's biggest prick, I ­–"

"Leave me _alone_!" she hissed in reply, glad that they didn't have an audience.

"Meet me in the carpark after school."

"No."

"_Elizabeth_, we need to talk!"

"Fuck. Off."

"Just meet me this afternoon," he demanded finally, turning heel, and disappearing down the hall. Eli resisted the urge to spit after him.

~ * ~

"Jay, tell your mother that I'll bring Eli home later tonight," Darcy muttered simply to a bewildered Jasmine Bennett as she came out of dance class at the start of lunch.

"Oh, are you two going on a date?" she questioned innocently. Thanking God that she hadn't heard yet, he nodded in reply.

"I'll bring her back at an appropriate time, but tell her not to expect her to be back in time for dinner," he replied. Jay smiled brilliantly, practically glittering with good will.

"Alright! I hope you two have fun, she's been pretty down recently," she said pleasantly. Nodding, Darcy turned heel, and headed back down the hallway. He needed to find Elizabeth, but she had conveniently disappeared. But at least he was covering his bases.

~ * ~

"Wow. Subtle," Eli spat sarcastically as she walked out the back gates to the carpark where Francie usually waited to pick her daughters up. Darcy was leaning against the gate, patiently awaiting her approach.

"I thought we should talk," he informed her tonelessly.

"My father still doesn't like me riding in cars with strange boys," she stated coolly.

"He considers your fiancée a stranger?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow in reply. She scowled.

"He'd have every justification to do so," she snapped, walking straight past him.

"I told Jay that you were coming home with me."

"I'll take the bus."

"I saw that you got a lead part. Do you know which one yet?"

"I'm still taking the bus."

"I like your hair like that."

"It's to hide the cut, jackass. And I'm _still_ taking the bus."

"Elizabeth, just… we were working not that long ago," he sighed in frustration. "The picnic by the river. Practising your singing. Why has everything changed all of a sudden?" he questioned her in exasperation.

"How about we were forced into an arranged marriage?" she suggested sarcastically, continuing her pace past him.

"Elizabeth. Please. I want you to understand," he said softly, reaching for her wrist. Eli stopped trying to rush past him, and came to a halt.

"I'll hear you out. But you have to hear _me_ out, too," she said finally.

"Thank you. I appreciate it," he sighed gratefully. "Come on then. My car is over here," he informed her, sliding his hand down her wrist to entwine their fingers together. Eli resisted the urge to shiver. She _hated_ the fact that he still had such an effect on her, even though she was furious with him. She wondered why he felt the urge to play the part all the time, he wanted their marriage purely out of convenience – he wanted his estate and his money. He didn't want _her_.

She wondered why that thought was such a bitter one to her. She had feelings for him – but she didn't _care_ for him, did she? His intolerable pride was always in the way, it was almost too much for her to handle.

"Where are we going?" she asked, as they both took their seats in the car.

"Where do you want to go?" he questioned in reply. She shrugged.

"Wherever," she muttered simply. Darcy looked thoughtful for a moment, and glanced at his watch.

"There's a nice park not far from here, and a pretty decent café next to it," he informed her.

"Fine," she replied, putting on her seatbelt in silence. Starting the car, they slid out of the gates, and away from the school. They didn't speak on the short drive over to the park, nor whilst Darcy got two coffees from the café, each trying to formulate their statements. They walked over to a bench in silence, until Eli finally broke the spell.

"So you wanted to talk?" she reminded him after sipping her coffee.

"I didn't want you to see what happened today," he confessed simply. She rolled her dark eyes in response.

"Well I _did_ see. You're an idiot for fighting Gershom," she snapped, looking around her, hardly seeing the bright green grass and swaying trees. She had no idea what she wanted to say to him, she only knew that his actions had been stupid.

"We don't have the best history," he began slowly, staring at the coffee in his hands thoughtfully.

"I know all about your history, thank you very much," she informed him. "It gives you no reason to fight him in front of the whole bloody school. Fists don't conquer anything – if you want to fight, you can use words," she snapped angrily.

"Gershom is different. He – I can't – I have my reasons for disliking him," he sighed, before taking a mouthful of coffee. "I'm not ready to tell you about them. Not yet. But Gershom Wickham is always going to be an issue I would rather you weren't involved with," he informed her firmly, lowering his polystyrene cup.

"You acted like a complete and total idiot today – it's just as much _your_ fault that I got hit that it was Gershom's," she snapped. "I can't _believe_ that you considered your pride so important to you that you would actually _fight_ him for the sake of your own damn ego," she added angrily.

"I didn't want you to interfere," was all he could reply.

"Well I did, because I didn't want you two to kill each other. And I ended up getting hurt. It could have been someone else who got in the way, and it could have been worse. Your actions effect more than just the guy you're punching," she snapped.

"I _said_ I was sorry! If I could go back in time and change what happened I would, but I don't have that sort of power! All I can do is say that I didn't want you to get hurt!" he cried angrily.

"Did he insult you? Is that why you fought him?" she questioned him suddenly. He said nothing. "Damn your pride, Darcy! It means so much to you that you couldn't even stop fighting him when I tried to stop you! Damn you and your _stupid_ pride!" she cried angrily, tossing her head away from him to stare in the opposite direction. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying – she had been crying far too much for her liking recently.

Darcy tried to control his breathing as he glared at his shoes. He ground his teeth together in frustration – it was _so_ hard. So hard to deal with his feelings for her, so difficult to repress the uncontrollable burning he felt whenever she was near. He hazarded a glance to her in a moment of weakness, his resolve almost crumbling as he watched the sunlight catch in her dark hair, her smouldering eyes as she turned to glare at him in defence. Those eyes burnt away at his soul, leaving only ash and longing.

He turned back to his feet. He couldn't risk looking at her again, not knowing what she did to him. She was a fire, a burning, smouldering flame that consumed him like nothing else had before. He _knew_ he was supposed to resist her, to overcome the temptation to kiss her fiery lips once more, because he couldn't afford to frighten her, not after what had happened that night that she found out the arrangement that was to take place. God, he had felt like such a monster... But how was he supposed to gain control when the temptation created was so much stronger than the man?

He had a million things he wanted to say, but none of those words could come out.

"Clearly there's nothing I can say to convince that I'm sorry," he said bitterly, his next statement cut short before it left his lips.

"Darcy, what are we even _doing_?" she questioned a few minutes later, her voice weary and defeated. "Why are we even trying to make this work? It can't. It's stupid," she sighed with frustration. "Don't you want out of this too? Don't you just want to drop all of this and get _out_?" she asked incredulously.

"You know I have my reasons for not wanting to break off this engagement, Elizabeth," he muttered in response.

"But how can you live with the prospect of marrying someone that you don't love? Only the deepest, strongest love would ever tempt me into marriage. I won't do it to satisfy my parents," she replied passionately, running her hands through her dark curls.

Darcy was so surprised that he nearly dropped his cup of coffee. She didn't love him? She thought that he didn't love her?

"What, and you don't think you're capable of loving me eventually?" he questioned almost desperately, trying to meet her eyes in vain, hoping he didn't sound choked by emotion as the words spilt from his mouth without restraint.

"I don't want a friendship, Darcy! I don't want to wake up one day and realise that I've married an acquaintance – I want _love_," she confessed with agitation. "Let's face it. We're kidding ourselves. We're not going to become passionate lovers just because we were the unlucky victims of a social experiment. We can't even sit down together," she continued shakily.

"Am I allowed to ask why you're telling me this with such little civility?" he questioned stiffly, disguising his hurt with his usual cold tones. "Why you consider me so unlovable?" he continued with growing agitation.

"We're just not right for each other."

"How do you know? You aren't even giving this a chance!" he objected angrily.

"Fine then! How the hell do you _think_ I should feel about a guy that seems to make it his life's mission to bring misery into the lives of those around him?" she questioned suddenly. "You constantly wander around like you're the boss of _everyone_, you put yourself on a pedestal above people like me, and people like Gershom, you're completely consumed with your pride, your arrogance, your _conceit_, and your selfish rejection of other people's emotions, but most of all, I could never love a man that was incapable of _feeling_!" she cried angrily.

"And what _exactly_, Elizabeth, is your frame of reference? Are you so vain that you can't stand the fact that I'm not throwing myself at you?" he questioned her angrily. "I don't alter my behaviour just to comply to other people's expectations. _You_'re the selfish one here – I haven't built a shrine around you, so _apparently_ I'm a horrible human being to everyone else too," he snapped.

"_See_? We don't fit!" she cried in frustration. Darcy glared angrily at the ground beneath his feet.

"We just need to get used to this. We still have time before it's made official. I'm not giving up without a fight," he stated simply.

"What, so I'm supposed to be in misery until then?" she questioned him doubtfully.

"You're leaving the country anyway. So what if you have to play a game for a month or so, it _clearly_ doesn't bother you," he snapped in return, draining the last of his coffee.

"So… what do we do?" she asked after a long silence.

"We try and see if this can work. I very much doubt that your mother is going to let you out of this engagement – and my Aunt wouldn't be that fond of the idea either," he replied.

"Does that mean we… date?" she questioned doubtfully.

"If it's not too painful for you," he drawled sarcastically. She rolled her dark eyes in annoyance.

"Sorry. I don't have much experience in this," she snapped. "It's not every day that you're forced into an engagement with a random acquaintance," she added curtly.

"Fine then. But I'll ask one thing," he stated.

"You can ask, but I don't know if I'll be of any help."

"It's a favour. I don't want my little sister to know about this if it's not necessarily going to happen. Until we both know for sure that we're going to get married, she has to stay separate to you," he requested firmly. Eli thought over his words. Was it because he didn't want his little sister to know the sibling of the girl that had been so close to Char, her apparent boyfriend?

"Sounds fine to me," she replied finally. Darcy nodded in silence. "So how do we do this?" she questioned.

"Logically. We see each other as much as we can, try to… get to know each other, and see if our situation is hopeless or not," he replied simply. Eli nodded slowly.

"Alright…" she murmured quietly. "I guess we can do that," she sighed finally.

Darcy crumpled his empty coffee cup in his hand.

So she didn't love him. She thought he was arrogant and proud. She had no idea of his feelings for her, and wanted to break of the engagement.

_Not likely_, he thought to himself quietly. Somehow, he knew that the new knowledge he had gained should have indicated his actions and emotions from that point on. They should have cooled him off, made him more realistic.

But the all consuming fire didn't dim within him, but burned brighter with the intent to change Elizabeth Bennett's mind. He wasn't going to let her go that easily.

~ * ~

"Why are you back so early? Jay said you were having dinner with Darcy," Francie snapped almost the minute Eli walked into the house.

"Well clearly I'm not. And I'm not hungry anyway," she retorted angrily, as Helena quickly bustled around to get her bag and coat.

"I'm in the middle of a meeting with Headmistress du Bourg, you simply _have_ to come in _now_, don't you," Francie hissed coldly, snatching her child by the arm, and dragging her into the living room. "Catherine! Look who came home early!" she crooned, her voice sickeningly sweet. Eli pulled away from her grip in annoyance.

"Hmm. I thought you were having dinner with my nephew," Headmistress do Bourg snapped. Eli rolled her eyes. "Well, you're here now – we might as well arrange a few things. Have you and William discussed a date to announce the engagement?" she questioned, narrowing her cold, dead eyes.

"No."

"Your daughter is _impossible_ Francine," the woman snapped.

"We're not setting a 'date' because we're not getting married – and an engagement seems an awfully stupid thing to arrange if there won't be a marriage!" Eli cried angrily.

"Don't use that tone with me, Elizabeth!" the Headmistress practically growled.

"Elizabeth! Apologise! And you _will _be getting married – I won't have that conversation again!" Francie retorted in annoyance.

"None of you can make me do what I don't want to do!" Eli shouted in reply.

"Don't you _dare_ –"

"Fuck _OFF_ Francie!" Eli cried finally as she snatched up an annoying porcelain knick-knack sitting on the side table, and threw it at the ground with as much force as she could, where it shattered into a million pieces over the carpet.

She had disappeared upstairs before they had a chance to shout their disapproval.

**A/N: WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! Exams are over! EXAMS ARE OVER! *does a little happy dance* I'm FREEEEEEEEE! Thank you for all the support and kind words, I felt so loved! So it's back to my usual update schedule, thank you all so much for bearing with me! So far it looks like there will be about thirty-five chapters all up for this, before I start posting the sequel. **

**SaraC – Well, I can understand why you think that, but I don't think it was out of character for her. Yes, she's sixteen, but she's never been kissed, she's emotionally unstable, she had just been told by her own parents that she has to get married, she'd just had an argument with her father, she is frightened by her attraction to Darcy and she felt like a slut for enjoying being kissed and touched by him. Yes, it's the 21****st**** century, but she is still very innocent and not as tough as she wants others to think. I don't think maturity comes with age, it comes with experience, and she has all the experience of a trained lab rat. Under those circumstances, I don't think it was unusual for her. **


	22. Of Parties, Past and Problems

"_Because we've never been in this place before,_

_No not as it is right now,_

_And we may never know what this night is for,_

_So for now, we will just sit around,"_

-Damien Rice, 'Never been in this place before'

"Helena, you really don't have to go to so much trouble," Eli tried to convince the flustered maid as she bustled around the room anxiously.

"But Miss Elisabet, Francine says you must look _beautiful_ tonight, _very_ beautiful," she wailed nervously.

"Helena, seriously, calm down. My hair looks fine, my makeup is finished, and we already decided that this is the best dress for tonight. You don't need to stress over the shoes," she tried to soothe her. Helena only chewed her lip as she held up two almost identical pairs of heels.

"But Miss Elisabet! What if your fiancée does not like them?" she questioned anxiously.

"Darcy probably won't care. Seriously, I'm ready. I'll pick my own shoes in a minute," she assured her. "Go back downstairs and have something to eat. You must be exhausted," she suggested.

"But –"

"Helena, I'm _fine_. I'll be down in a minute," she said firmly. Sighing, Helena relented, and slipped out of her charge's bedroom in silence. Releasing a breath of relief, Eli turned to her vanity mirror, examining her appearance for the night ahead.

She had no idea why she was stressing about how she looked. After all, she and Darcy were only playing a game, right? They weren't _really_ engaged, were they?

Sighing as she examined the ring on her left hand, Eli thought over the past two weeks. Since their discussion in the park, things between she and Darcy seemed to have improved. He had started acting differently. He was far more polite to her, he seemed to consider her feelings more, and wasn't so cold. Occasionally he would be very distant, but she didn't really mind. It gave her moments of clarity in which to think.

She was terrified that she was falling for Darcy. What she had said to him in the park felt like a lie, she felt as if she were just trying to convince her_self_, not Darcy, that they weren't suited for each other. Her attraction to him grew stronger and stronger with each passing day that they spent in each other's company, and she had no idea of how to act. Clearly he felt nothing for her, but could she really just hang around, wishing that maybe he could possibly grow to be attracted to her in return?

Going over her appearance one last time, she couldn't help but wish that she looked like Jay. Jay was so outwardly beautiful that she just seemed to glow. Eli, on the other hand, looked nothing _like_ her. She just hoped that Darcy could see the effort she had put in that night. She _felt_ pretty, but that didn't mean that she _looked_ it. Sighing, she realised that it was probably all for nothing. Darcy probably didn't even see her as a girl, just that person he was marrying to claim his inheritance.

Snatching a pair of shoes as she heard a car roll up the drive, Eli took in her appearance one last time, before pulling on her coat and grabbing Emilia's present. She headed downstairs quickly, not wanting to leave Darcy to his own devices for an extended period of time.

"Shit! He has a _nice_ car!" Lyla exclaimed, peering out the window to see her sister's caller.

"Man, he's _fit_," Katie added.

"He's _gorgeous_ – I wonder if he has any brothers!"

"I just wish that he could _smile_, man! He looks so emo!"

"Go away," Eli demanded of her elder sisters as they pressed their noses against the windows.

"Your husband-to-be is pretty hot, you know," Lyla commented appreciatively.

"You're fogging up the glass."

"_William_ dear, such a pleasure to see you!" she heard her mother screech the moment the doorbell rang. "Please, come _in_ young man!" she demanded, practically pulling him into the foyer.

"Hi. I'm Lyla," her sister introduced immediately, stepping up to him the moment he entered the sitting room. Fluttering her eyelashes obviously, Lyla flipped back her blonde hair with very clear intent.

"It's a pleasure, I'm sure," Darcy replied meaninglessly, ignoring her attempts to catch his eye. He already looked bored. "Ready?" he questioned Eli as she appeared.

"As I'll ever be," she muttered, stepping past Katie, who was unbuttoning her shirt before approaching the guest. Taking her hand in his, Darcy led her out the front in silence.

"What a _bore_!" Lyla's exclamation sounded from inside. Eli winced upon hearing it, but clearly Darcy had other things on his mind, for he didn't react whatsoever. She wondered what, or _who_ he was thinking of. As their time together progressed, she was reluctantly growing more and more attached to him.

He said very little on the way to George's apartment. Eli hadn't expected him to speak, but she was slightly disappointed. She hated the awkwardness hanging around them as he drove in silence, the only sounds breaking up the monotony being the soft hum of the radio, and the quiet night around them.

"Emilia told me once that you guys have known each other for a long time," she stated suddenly, unable to handle the silence for another second longer.

"Our mothers used to be friends," he muttered simply.

"Oh… I understand," she replied softly, wishing she had a giant hammer to hit herself over the head with. They once more ascended into silence, the quiet lasting until they stepped in the elevator at George's building.

"Are you looking forwards to rehearsals?" he questioned her randomly. Blinking in surprise, Eli took a moment to reply.

"Yes. I just wish they would announce the casting, Clare has been wandering around like she owns the place, because she got a lead role too," she answered.

"You'll be starting them this week, though, and Llewellyn _did_ say you got the part. Clare probably got Carlotta," he replied. "But I'd avoid Clare until then. She does seem pretty determined to hate you just in case you _do_ get the part," he added after a moment's thought. Eli rolled her eyes.

"I worked that one out after the dramatic increase in death stares, and that pleasant rumour she started that I paid off Llewellyn to get one of the lead roles," she replied with irritation. "I hope she gets the part of Carlotta – it'll suit her," she practically spat.

"But be careful when they tell everyone that you got the role of Christine. I wouldn't be surprised if she pushed you down the stairs to replace you," he threw in as the elevator doors slid open.

"She's friendly that way," Eli muttered sarcastically, following him out of the lift and towards George's door.

"Just… keep an eye out for her. She's crazy," he said quietly. Before Eli could register her surprise at such a comment, the door was pulled open, light and music flooding into the hallway.

"Eli! Yay!" was the immediate cry as Emilia launched herself into her friend's arms, exploding in a peal of giggles.

"Emi – are you _drunk_?" Eli exclaimed in shock, trying to pull back to look over the brand new eighteen year old holding her so tightly.

"No! But I'm pretending I am. I _almost_ managed to convince Antoinette that I was though, but she's too clever for me," she replied excitedly, dragging the two new arrivals into the apartment quickly.

Emilia looked exuberant. Her beauty had been increased with brand new light chocolate highlights in her hair, her pale eyes twinkling brilliantly. She wore a gorgeous little black dress that hugged her figure brilliantly, dipping low at the back to show off her beautifully creamy skin, her makeup tasteful but stunning. She was beaming brightly, a glass of sparkling champagne in her hand.

"Wow! You look gorgeous!" Eli exclaimed, as Darcy helped her pull off her coat.

"You know, if you had been born hideous and were wearing a potato sack tonight I would have believed you," she retorted, glancing her friend up and down. Eli wore a lovely satin musky pink babydoll dress with a layer of soft tulle over the skirt, a scarlet ribbon tied beneath her bust to lend definition to her shape. Her curls fell naturally down her back, two strands from either side of her head pulled to the nape of her neck and woven with scarlet, pink and white ribbons. Her makeup was subtle but pleasant, Helena having served her well, as usual.

"You two have _got_ to stop complimenting each other! It's getting depressing for every male in the room!" George exclaimed, wandering up to greet the new guests.

"Looking sharp there Gigi," Eli praised appreciatively. George wore grey trousers and a matching vest with a black shirt beneath it, a loose grey cravat tied carelessly around his neck. He looked great; a week's stubble growing over his chin, his hair actually brushed back, his dark eyes twinkling merrily.

"Why thank you Eli, looking quite splendid yourself, I must say," he replied with a grin, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. "Now are you going to compliment me too, or don't you want a kiss?" he asked Darcy quite seriously.

"Trick question?"

"Depends what day of the week it is."

"You look like crap."

"Well, you just saved us a very awkward greeting," George replied cheerfully. "So Eli, there are some people you should meet before the guest of honour gets too pissed to introduce them to you," he stated briskly.

"Hey, where do I put your present?" Eli asked Emilia curiously.

"You got me a present? I told you not to!" Emilia exclaimed.

"I'll put it over here, with the other gifts I'm sure you didn't want," Eli replied with a grin, before she was steered through George's apartment to a group of people convening around the coffee table with drinks and finger food.

"Bella! Jon! Daddy! _This_ is Eli!" Emilia declared proudly, pushing her friend towards a selection of people. "Eli, this is my big sister Bella, her husband Jon, and my wonderful father, whom I love _very_ much," she informed her pleasantly.

"He bought her a BMW," George informed her quietly. Stifling laughter, Eli turned back to them.

"Em's told me really great stuff about you guys," she assured them all warmly. Bella was a taller, less attractive version of her sister, pretty enough, but lacking in all the things that made Emilia extraordinary. Her husband, Jon, was quite handsome, but not nearly as much as George or Darcy. However, he had a very pleasant smile, and lovely eyes that twinkled brightly. Emilia's father was a bit of a surprise, he was much older than she would have guessed, in his sixties at least. Despite the fact that he was sitting in a wheelchair, he looked healthy enough, and very, _very_ clean. His beard had been trimmed perfectly, his greying hair slicked back so not a single strand was out of place, his clothing all pressed and ironed to perfection.

"And you guys know William Darcy, he's Eli's special friend," Emilia added. Blushing furiously, Eli sent her friend a quick glare, but she only giggled. Emilia had revealed her suspicions that she thought Eli and Darcy both had a thing for each other, and her favourite pastime of late had been teasing her on that matter.

"It's a pleasure to see you all again," Darcy murmured quietly.

"And you guys all know Howl, right?" George questioned, stepping aside so they could see who was seated on the other couches. Professor Llewellyn was sitting back comfortably, dressed in a pair of jeans and an olive V-neck sweater that brought out his eyes beautifully, nursing a glass of scotch.

"Well I don't know about that, George, I only teach their classes," Llewellyn replied sarcastically, his amber eyes twinkling.

"Mocking me again, are we Howl?"

"I should really just hold up a prompt card whenever I tease you in the future, it'll save you time," Llewellyn retorted playfully.

"Ignore him, he's always like this at parties," Emilia murmured to Eli. "This is Taylor Annas, she's my Dad's PA, but she's like a big sister to me," she continued, moving onto the next individual on the couch. Taylor was a reasonably pretty young woman with short dark hair and a friendly smile, an ideal look for a personal assistant. "And Antoinette had to pee, but she should be –"

"First of all, _my name is not Antoinette_, and second of all, you _don't_ announce to a room full of people that I needed to pee!" sounded a very irked, slightly French voice from the hallway, as a woman appeared in the living room.

She was gorgeous. Slender and perfectly proportioned, with a pale, heart shaped face, a _killer_ bone structure, full red lips and short, pixie cropped white blonde hair, she was stunning. Her eyes were the most incredible ice blue, sparkling brightly under the apartment lights. She wore a very cute pale blue frock that she somehow managed to make look sexy. There was a distinct resemblance to Emilia in her features. Eli was starting to wonder at the conspiracy of being surrounded by people that were more attractive than her.

"Oh. Hello," she greeted Eli suddenly, taking note of the new individual in the room. "Uhh… I don't know you. Do you know me?" she questioned curiously.

"Well, Em just said your name is Antoinette, so I guess I'm one step ahead of you," she reasoned with a shrug. The girl winced.

"Listen, you're cute, what with those pretty hazel eyes and nice little accent. It'd be a shame if a sweetie like you had to be eradicated from the earth," she stated factually, in a lovely muted French accent. "So calling me _that name_ isn't going to do you any good," she added.

"Can I pick a name then?"

"Oh, do go ahead."

"How do you feel about Ignatius?"

"Sounds hot. I'll take it."

"I _knew_ they were going to get along!" Emilia cheered triumphantly.

"Oh goodie, she's playing cupid again," Ignatius sighed, rolling her pale eyes.

"Sorry, Eli's taken. And straight," Emilia apologised with a sigh. Ignatius stamped her foot in mock frustration.

"Oh well. The cute ones always are," she sighed teasingly. "So, Eli, right? I've heard about you," she said, turning back to Eli with an expression of mild curiosity, looking her up and down in thought.

"Seriously, what have you been telling people about me?" Eli questioned Emilia with a frown.

"Can you _really_ open a bottle of larger with your belly button?" Ignatius inquired curiously. Resisting a snort of laughter, Eli shook her head.

"Emilia's the one with _that _particular skill. However, I can fold napkins into swans," she offered in return.

"Sounds like a reasonable career path you've got lined up," she replied playfully. "No, Howl told me about you. And George. You seem to be the apple of everyone's eye," she added, with a small, secretive glance towards Darcy, who was shifting uncomfortably beside Eli.

"Well shucks, you know all about me, Ignatius, and I hardly know a thing about you," Eli sighed, picking up the girl's playful tone.

"My full title is Lady Clumsy-Scatter-Brain of Bedlam," she introduced herself with a teasing curtsey.

"Really? I have a cousin with the same name."

"It's quite common. My parents were very unimaginative."

"Silly parents."

"I quite agree. I'll have to go fetch some new ones. Maybe the stork will drop them off for me," she laughed in response, stepping forwards, and pressing a light kiss to each of Eli's cheeks. "I'm Toni. It's nice to meet you," she said finally.

"Uh, Eli. And the same back at you," she replied, faltering for a moment. Toni? As in, Professor Llewellyn's Toni?

"Now. Champagne!" Toni cried out, stepping into the kitchen. Glancing around in surprise, Eli caught George's eye. He gave her the tiniest of nods.

'_Wow!_' Eli mouthed in reply. He nodded once more.

"You know, Antoinette, you _really_ shouldn't drink champagne. Doctor Penn told me that alcohol is _very_ bad for you," Emilia's father announced suddenly, in a wizened voice. A few people rolled their eyes, as if they were quite used to such comments.

"_Nonsense_, Daddy! Doctor Windsor told me that half a glass of red wine a night prevents heart disease!" Bella, Emilia's sister, objected.

"I agree with Bells. A glass a day keeps the doc away," Toni declared, stepping back into the party, a glass of champagne held in her slender hands. "Where's the young adult? Are you trashed yet?" she questioned suddenly, glancing around in search of Emilia.

"Nope!"

"Good for you! I remember on _my_ eighteenth – oh, no, I don't," she muttered, stopping mid sentence with a laugh. "Sorry sweet, I'm a _terrible_ influence," she apologised to Emilia earnestly.

"Not as bad as you think, Antoi –"

"_Speaketh you not_!"

"Ladies, as interesting as your bickering _is_…" George began, speaking over the girl's voices.

"Ha! Guys only find chicks arguing 'interesting' when at least one of them is naked and there's mud involved," snorted Toni in reply.

"Now that's not fair!" George objected. "Jon, Darcy, Howl, is that true?" he questioned, glancing around at the men of the room. Darcy shrugged in simple reply.

"Uhh… of course not. Or, at least not in the presence of the wife," Jon answered quickly, avoiding Bella's eyes nervously.

"I'd say not. Now _jelly_, on the other hand, is _much_ more effective than mud. Tastes better," Howl reasoned thoughtfully, before taking in the horrified (and amused) stares of the women in the room. "Uhhh… happy birthday, Emilia!" he cried suddenly, raising his drink, and taking a quick mouthful to avoid suspicion.

"Do you want me to get you some champagne?" Darcy questioned Eli quietly, placing his hand softly on the side of her arm.

"I'm sixteen, remember?" she reminded him.

"You're allowed to drink here, under adult supervision," he informed her in reply, not removing his hand from her arm. Eli shivered slightly in the intimacy of the action, however innocent it might be.

"Umm… I guess so," she shrugged. Nodding, Darcy removed his hand from her arm, and slipped over to the kitchen. Turning back to the party with slightly pink cheeks, Eli rolled her eyes at the very silly faces Emilia and Toni were pulling. "Real mature," she commented sarcastically.

"It's my party, I can mock you if I want to," Emilia replied factually.

"The amount of times I've used that excuse…" Toni trailed off nostalgically, practically throwing herself rather dramatically on the couch next to Llewellyn.

"Oh, we all know. I still recall the body shot incident of your eighteenth," George replied, with a small, amused smirk at the memory.

"Oh good. _Someone_ remembers my eighteenth," Toni replied thankfully. "Hang on, who did I do body shots off?" she questioned in surprise, sitting up immediately.

"An easier question would be who you _didn't_ do body shots off," George retorted.

"You lot _really_ are terrible for Eli," Llewellyn commented suddenly. "She's going to tell all her friends in Australia that England is a horrible country where young women spend their lives licking vodka off the stomachs of everyone in the vicinity," he added, his amber eyes twinkling with humour.

"You _do_ realise that if she did, it would increase tourism by a million percent," Toni pointed out to him, trying to hide a snigger.

"That's okay Sir, all my friends have seen _St Trinnians_. We know what England is all about," Eli assured him playfully.

"I _love_ that movie!" Toni cried excitedly. "Despite having Colin Firth in it. Russell Brand makes up for his discretions," she added thoughtfully. "Hey, why don't you dress like Russell Brand?" she questioned Llewellyn suddenly.

"Self-respect?"

"Ooh, _clever_," she retorted, rolling her eyes, trying to hide a snort of laughter.

"Here," Darcy said, passing Eli a flute of champagne. She turned to meet his eyes, her skin burning as he shot her his usual incredibly intense stare.

"Thank you," she muttered quietly, accepting the glass from him.

"Alright, since we're all here, I'm going to ring the _Libertine_ for dinner," George announced, draining his glass of champagne.

"Ooh! I _love_ that restaurant!" Emilia exclaimed excitedly.

"And you don't think that could be why I'm getting them to cater?" he questioned doubtfully, rolling his eyes.

"You take _far _too much pleasure from teasing her, George."

"Don't deny me my simple pleasures in life," he requested playfully. "Well then everyone, take a seat, get drunk, I'll only be a minute," he invited them all, getting up from his chair to go to the phone in the kitchen.

Eli and Darcy moved over to the empty love seat that had been pulled towards the coffee table to join the rest of the group, but was on an angle so they could still see the incredible view over the city from the huge apartment window. The happy chatter of everyone assembled and the jazzy atmospheric music all became sounds of the background as they sat, quite close due to the size of the chair. Watching the soft pink champagne reflect the yellow candlelight of the room allowed Eli to pretend she didn't know Darcy was staring at her for a moment, but her curiosity weakened, and she glanced up to meet his eyes.

"It's not poisoned," he assured her. Frowning slightly in surprise, Eli glanced down to her glass, realising that she hadn't drunk it at all. Feeling slightly silly, she took a sip.

"It's like fizzy drink," she laughed, feeling the bubbles rush down her throat. It had a very fruity taste, and was actually quite pleasant. She took another sip.

"Have you never drunk champagne before?" he questioned quietly, his eyes never moving from her face. She found it strangely intoxicating, his gaze raking over her face. Did she have something in her teeth? Why was he always looking at her like that? She knew full well that he didn't find her attractive, so what was it? He made her feel so insecure, but so… strangely drawn to him.

"No. I've tried wine a few times, and at my friend Birdie's birthday party I had a vodka cruiser, but I don't have much experience with alcohol," she admitted. Darcy nodded in silence, raising his champagne to his lips, still not taking his eyes away from her. It was an electrifying sensation to feel, particularly combined with the fact that due to their positions, his knees were pressed against the side of hers, and his body was so very close… he smelt wonderful. He always smelt wonderful, a mixture of soap, cologne, and that scent that lingered on books, ever changing through all eternity. "So… umm… how is your studying going?" she asked curiously, her voice slightly unsteady as she shifted under his powerful gaze.

"Fine. I still have plenty of time before finals, and I'm quite confident that I can remember everything," he replied. She nodded slowly. Despite his cockiness, he _was_ very smart. She didn't want to sound arrogant, but it was rare that she met people in her age group with _real_ wisdom and intelligence, people who didn't boast their marks and own cleverness, but were content to observe and understand in silence.

"You've got a few more days of detention, right?" she questioned. He nodded. They hadn't spoken any further on the fight, simply accepting his punishment in silence.

"It's quite alright. I don't need to start going to rehearsals for a while, anyway," he replied simply. "Have you learnt all your lines yet?" he asked her curiously.

"I know every line in the entire musical off by heart. I memorised it when I was seven," she replied proudly. He gave a small chuckle that sent tingles running down her spine.

"Then you should be fine. Your singing has improved quite a lot. There's no competition for Christine. Just as long as Clare doesn't throw you down the stairs you'll do well," he replied. Her entire body tingled with the unfamiliar sensation of receiving praise from him.

"Thank you," she replied, trying not to sound suspicious, but she was certain that it seeped into her tone nevertheless.

She was confused, she had to admit. She, who knew the answer to every question in class, who could discuss Newton's Laws of Motion and Oscar Wilde at the age of eight, had no idea when it came to the strange dance that she and Darcy were performing. He angered her so, his flaws so strong and hard to overcome, but she was also so undeniably attracted to him… and now he was confusing her with his words and actions, seemingly on purpose! Was he testing her? Trying to discover if she had the qualities he wished for in a wife? Did he want to make her love him, only to keep her close and faithful by his side, regardless of his own indifference to her?

"Are you okay?" he asked her quietly about an hour later, as they all sat around the large coffee table, eating from a delicious array of French food that had been delivered from the restaurant down the street.

"I'm fine," she lied, pushing her… whatever it was, around the plate.

"You just look a little thoughtful, that's all," he commented carefully.

"I'm fine. Just thinking about… uhhh… cows," she said suddenly, glancing at her plate. "How cool they are. I'm a fan," she muttered.

"Ah. That explains why you're eating beef," he reasoned, speaking in a very low whisper, his mouth so close to her ear that she could feel his warm breath. She tried to ignore the sounds of his amusement in his voice. "So do you always eat whatever you're a fan of? You seemed to like the horses at my Aunt's place, should I be concerned?" he questioned teasingly, placing his warm hand on her arm, softly running it down to her elbow. She resisted a shiver.

"I – uh –"

"Yes? Have you a fascinating fact about cows to share with me?" he questioned her mockingly.

"Come on, you _know_ I wasn't thinking about cows. Don't tease me," she admitted finally, rolling her eyes. She was quite surprised. She had no idea he could be so playful! Her heart fell with the realisation that it was to humiliate her, but still, his touch…

"Then what _were_ you thinking about, might I ask?" he questioned curiously.

"I forgot. This business of the cows has been so fascinating that I completely lost my train of thought. I'm now going to contemplate an array of barnyard animals for the next hour in lieu of my forgetfulness," she informed him briskly.

"Really? Seems like a waste of time, to me."

"And _that_ is why you're going to die British," she said simply, popping a small square of beef into her mouth, ending their discussion.

"They're cute together, aren't they," Toni whispered to Howl later that night, after the meal had been long finished, and everyone mindlessly played with their desserts, her pale eyes trained on the young couple as they chatted on the love seat. The girl, Eli, was blushing often as he spoke, but she seemed so… wary of his words. Like she was holding something back. The boy was completely enamoured with her. His eyes never left her form, always regarding her with an expression of intense longing and admiration.

"They do make a nice couple," he conceded, glancing over at them thoughtfully. "I'm worried about Eli though. She doesn't know how she feels, much less how William feels. I suspect that at least one of them is going to get quite hurt," he muttered. "I must admit, I feel very protective over her. I really don't want her to be harmed," he added.

"He looks completely head over heels for her. Have you realised that he hasn't taken his eyes off her _once_?" she replied conspiratorially.

"There's no denying that he has very strong feelings for her. They'd both save themselves some heartache if they could just be honest with each other about how they feel," he commented, sipping his scotch quietly.

"You're one to talk…" she muttered under her breath.

"Pardon?"

"I – I just said –" she tried to stammer, before giving a slight groan of irritation. "It's just that… you shouldn't give advice that you can't follow yourself," she muttered. Glancing around to discern if anyone was listening, Howl carefully thought over his words.

"I... do not think…" he began slowly, trying to measure out his statement. "That it's the same. It's very different, you and I, Antoinette," he sighed. "They're a young couple with a lifetime of happiness ahead of them. They have no obstacles to overcome, other than their own insecurities, and time will heal those," he said quietly, his eyes dropping to the floor. "You know full well that time cannot heal our – obstacles," he added softly. Toni gave an irritated snort, and rolled her pale eyes.

"That's bullshit, Howl. The only thing stopping _us_ from being together is _your_ insecurities, and _your_ lack of faith in me," she snapped. "I'm not so vain that I can't overlook and accept a part of you that you have no power over. You _know_ I don't care about your excuses. You _know_ I love every part of you, even the parts that you don't," she continued with agitation. Sighing, and taking another sweep of the room, Howl gripped Toni's arm, and silently dragged her out of the living room and into the kitchen.

"We've been through this, Antoinette. You _know_ that we do this," he said tersely, once more not meeting her eyes.

"If those two kids out there can cure their insecurities with time, then why can't we do the same?" she questioned passionately, wishing that he would just _look_ at her for once.

"Because _their_ insecurities have no founding behind them! Eli is terrified of falling for someone that she doesn't think can ever love her! She's scared because she's feeling things for him that she's never felt before, and Darcy is simply too proud to admit that she has such an effect over him!" he argued, keeping his voice low and tense. "And if I don't want to enter a relationship that will put _you_ in danger of being hurt, and give _you_ a life of misery and instability, then you need to realise that these are insecurities that I can't get over! I'm _not_ going to get better, there's no cure – and it's time you accepted that," he snapped.

"You _know_ that I don't care about that! I've seen you at your best and at your worst Howl, and I _know_ that you would never intentionally hurt me. I _know_ that whilst our life together might be unstable, and have some ups and downs, it's what I want. It's what _you_ want. It's what we deserve," she hissed angrily.

"No. I can't do this. I can't put you through this again, _I_ can't go through it again!" he objected, running his hands through his hair tensely. "Do you have _any_ idea what I went through the last time we broke up? It was the lowest of lows – and I won't survive that again," he swore.

"Then we won't break up! I didn't want it to end – _you_ wanted it! _You_ put yourself through that!" she argued.

"I couldn't help it! I saw sense and realised that it couldn't go on any longer – I can't dissolution myself for another few weeks and then go through that again," he replied, clenching his fists together and hitting his thigh to stop himself from showing emotion.

"Howl, I've been with you when you were at your worst. I _know_ I can help you, and _you_ know that when we're together, the good days far outweigh the bad ones," she said softly, stepping forwards, her eyes softening as she saw his distress.

"_Ten days_, Antoinette. It took me _ten days_ just to get out of bed. I can't do that – not to myself, not to my students, and not to _you_," he muttered desperately. "You haven't seen me at my worst. I don't _let_ you see me at my worst. If you did, you'd do the sensible thing and leave me. If you want to spend your life with someone like _me_, you have to put up with that. And I won't be able to survive if you woke up one day and realised what I am with this… disease. I wouldn't be able to survive losing you again," he practically snapped.

"Howl, I _want_ to spend the rest of my life with you, the good _and_ the bad. I want to be able to help you, to care for you when you need me," she said softly, moving closer to him, until her body was pressed against the length of his, her arms softly wrapping around his waist. "Okay, I know this is a really shit reference, but remember that time when I was having a _really_ bad time of the month?" she questioned. Frowning slightly, Howl nodded slowly, meeting her eyes in confusion.

He slowly nodded. Toni softly ran her hand along the side of his beautiful face, pushing a strand of dark blonde hair from his warm amber eyes.

"I felt _horrible_. I was in _so_ much pain, and all I could do was mope around, lye in bed, and get really, _really_ angry at you. I wanted you to leave so you didn't have to see me like that," she said softly, feeling him wrap his arms around her waist and rest his brow against the top of her head. "But you didn't go. You went out in the middle of the night, pouring rain, and bought me chocolate and tampons and all those trashy magazines I know you hate, and then you sung to me for hours so I could sleep," she whispered, feeling tears sparkle in her pale eyes. "You could have just left like I told you, you could have marked your papers or get a decent night's sleep, but you stayed, and you were there for me," she finished quietly.

"There's a difference between period pain and –"

"I know. I said it was a bad comparison," she conceded, pressing her finger to his lips. "But the point is that you were there for me when I needed you, not just when I wanted you. I want to be there for you when you need me too, no matter how many times you tell me to go," she said softly.

"I – I can't, Antoinette. I'm sorry, I've tried, and it's not that I don't trust you, it's just… no one can love me. No one can love who I am," he managed to get out finally. "You're disillusioning yourself. And I can't put you through what I have to suffer – I – I just can't do that to you. To myself," he said honestly.

"So can you honestly look me in the eyes and say that you don't want me in your life?" she questioned him. He sighed.

"You know I want you to be in my life. But I can't have you the way I want you, and I can't see you like this, casually, as friends, knowing that when I go home tonight it's going to be alone again," he confessed quietly.

"Then if you don't want me as a girlfriend, and you don't want me as _just_ a friend, how _do_ you want me in your life?" she questioned him softly, trying to seek the answer in his eyes.

"I never said I don't _want_ you as a girlfriend. I want you to be in my life as my muse, my lover, my partner, but I won't change my mind. It's going to hurt much less _now_ than it will when you leave me," he muttered, casting his eyes downwards.

"Then why haven't you let go of me?" she asked softly. His eyes rose back up to meet hers, and before he could make another objection, she pressed her lips against his.

~ * ~

As the night dragged on, and the hour started to grow late, Mr Woodhouse began making announcements that it really was time for bed, and he wished to go home to sleep. After he, Bella and Jon left, Taylor followed, Toni and Llewellyn having already gone. Soon, Darcy and Eli were the only guests remaining, and it became apparent that they would need to leave in order to get home at an hour not causing suspicion.

"I really had a great time George, you plan a nice party," Eli assured him at the end of the evening, as she pulled on her coat by the front door. "And wish Emilia – if she's still conscious – a happy birthday for me, will you?" she requested. Chuckling, George nodded, and pressed a kiss lightly to her cheek.

"I'm glad you had fun. I'll make sure that Em gets the message," he assured her. After they had all made their goodbyes, Darcy and Eli slipped out into the hall, and into the elevator.

"Are you tired?" Darcy asked her curiously, after a small pause enveloped them.

"Not really. Are you okay to drive?" she questioned in reply.

"I only had half a glass of champagne, and that was about five or six hours ago," he answered. "We still have some time, you know. I don't have to drop you off yet," he added.

"Time for what?" she asked curiously, raising a brow. He shrugged.

"I don't know, we could go for a drive, or to the park or something," he suggested.

"Well… why don't we go to the park then? It's on the way," she offered, sounding quite unsure even as she spoke the words. What was he playing at?

"Alright then," was all he replied as the elevator doors slid open, and they walked through the lobby into the quiet night.

The park was only a few minutes away from George's apartment. Pulling the car up by the pavement, they got out in silence, aimlessly walking through the stone gates.

"It's so quiet… it's almost like there's no one around for miles," Eli sighed softly, allowing the smallest of breezes to brush over her face. She started to laugh, holding her head up, her eyes fluttered to a close.

"What's so funny?" he questioned her in surprise, wondering if she had gone mad.

"Nothing! Everything!" she sighed dreamily, opening her eyes once more, and flashing him a playful smile. "I just feel… happy. Like I'm someone else. The night does that for me," she explained.

"It's just the movement of the earth so it turns away from the sun. There's nothing special," he shrugged in reply.

"Oh no, there is! Because at night, I know that on the other side of the world it's daytime, it's bright and sunny and everyone I know is going about their lives, and it's just… magical," she sighed, laughing once more. "The night is so beautiful! So wonderful! So _different_ than day!" she added, as if trying to convince him.

Darcy said nothing. He was trying to resist the urge to kiss her.

_It's too soon; she still needs time to adjust_!

It's been almost three weeks now – how much more 'adjusting' does she need?

_You remember what happened the last time you kissed her, do you want that again?_

Of course I don't, but how is she ever going to learn to love me if she can't get over her fears?

_You know what you need to do, you know the plan. You need to ease her into loving you; you need to slowly woo her until she feels the same way that you feel about her. Give her time before you pressure her_.

I can't wait forever! I'll explode if I can't touch her again!

_Obviously she was scared that night when you kissed her. She's obviously never had sex; she may not have ever been kissed before. It was too quick, she was scared. You need to rebuild the trust that she had for you before that kiss, you can't rush her into it._

He sighed audibly as he stepped back from his clashing thoughts. Luckily Eli was too busy staring up at the night's sky to notice, or he would have to quite simply confess that he was getting soft.

"Sorry," she apologised suddenly, her cheeks blushing. "It's just – I'm glad to be away from my house, and from school. And I always loved night time," she explained, shifting somewhat awkwardly.

"You don't need to apologise," he replied, sensing an opportunity to improve himself in her eyes. He was determined to win her at all costs. "You don't need to apologise for being you around me. It's refreshing that you don't try to change who you are for other people," he added, seeing her cheeks burn brighter.

"Umm… thanks," she muttered unsurely.

"I liked the dress you wore tonight. It was very pretty," he added, feeling like he was on a roll. Clearly he had discovered how to get the upper hand; she was so unfamiliar with the concept of compliments that they caught her completely off guard. "Pink really suits you, and I like those… things, whatever they are, in your hair. But I always thought that you looked best in white," he continued.

"I kind of think it makes me look washed out," she muttered.

"Not at all. You look lovely in white," he replied. Blushing furiously from receiving a direct compliment, Eli let her head hang silently.

"Thank you," she whispered very quietly. Darcy was almost alarmed. Had she never received a compliment before? Was she so fragile? She didn't seem like it, she was always so strong… but after meeting her family, and realising how alone she must have been her whole life, he was beginning to suspect that maybe, just maybe, Elizabeth Bennett wasn't as tough as she liked people to think.

"Elizabeth, why didn't you tell me that you were gifted?" he found himself asking suddenly. Eli stopped in her tracks, shifting her eyes over, regarding him with a slightly suspicious expression.

"Why are you asking?" she questioned. He shrugged.

"I just… I want to get to know you, that's all," he rationalised.

"It's… kind of a long story. One that I've never told before. I don't know if I can," she muttered.

"Then tell me what you want," he replied. Waiting for her to think over her words, he led her to the side of the pond in the centre of the park, and they sat down on the bench, watching the moon dance over the dark rippling water.

"Well… when I was small my parents worked out that I was bright," she began slowly. "Dorr took me to be tested. They found out that I had an exceptionally high IQ – it registered in the 'highly gifted' category," she continued.

"How old were you?"

"Five. I had already started school the year before, and so the first thing they did was push me ahead another year. I started getting tutored outside of class, but I still had to go back quite often…" she muttered slowly, casting her eyes downwards. "To the hospital in Sydney where I was tested. But I didn't like it," she whispered shakily. "School was hard. Everyone was so scared that I was different, and when people are threatened by something they… try to eliminate it in any way possible," she muttered quietly.

Darcy's heart felt like being pummelled into the ground. As she spoke he could hear her torment, the pain she suffered, and he felt like it was _he_ who was going through it. He wanted to hear more, he wanted to know the full story, but he knew it was hard for her.

"Anyway, they worked out pretty early on that my brain was suited to mathematics and language. I had good logical skills, but the creative side of my brain was just… always moving. They said that it was really rare for that part of my mind to be so strong. But because of the way my head works, it caused a lot of emotional instability," she explained. "I needed an outlet, and they suggested that because I was so good with maths, that maybe music was a good idea. So we bought a piano, I taught myself to play, and that's how I got my love of music," she continued. "But things only got worse at school. I hated it. I finished primary about two years early, and then I started to go to high school, but I also had a university professor to tutor me. I stopped caring about my marks, but it didn't make much difference. High school was even worse than primary – I had a label stuck on my forehead from day one, and the other kids…" she muttered, trailing off.

"They teased you?" he questioned softly. She nodded.

"It was very bad. I'm not ready to talk about some of the stuff that happened… not to anyone," she replied. Darcy's eyes widened in surprise. What could have happened that was so bad that she couldn't even talk about it? "Anyway, my Dad pushed for me to go to TAFE, which is like… well, I don't know, community college in this country, maybe? I got my HSC equivalent – which is my graduation from high school – in ten months. I did all the maths and sciences and that. Dorr wants me to be a doctor," she explained. "I told him that I didn't want to be. I told him that I wanted to be an actress; that I wanted to sing. I wanted to go to Uni, but only to study what I wanted. I refused to study medical science, I said I would rather disappear to the other side of the universe than sacrifice what I loved for his wished," she informed him.

"And what did he say?" Darcy questioned softly.

"Nothing. The next day he came home, and told us that we were moving to England. He'd found the best school in the area, a nice house, and sent enquires out about getting me and Jay positions at Rosings Park. There was no ultimatum. We left just after Christmas," she answered simply.

"But why didn't he just force you to go to University? He forced you across the world into a school you didn't want to go to, why not just _make_ you study medical science?" he questioned in confusion.

"I was fifteen, I couldn't go to University. The doctors said I wasn't emotionally stable enough," she answered, before sighing. "The reason why I don't tell people I'm 'gifted', why I don't act like I've got a high IQ, is that I knew I would never be able to prove who I am with a label stuck to my forehead. I'll never be able to mature enough for University if I have to go through what I went through again. And I'd rather die then give up what I want from life," she finished softly, staring at the ground before her in an expression of intense thought.

Darcy was in shock. He would never have guessed that her life had been filled with so much torment… Did that explain her insecurity? Was she terrified that drawing attention to herself would only cause pain?

"I'm sorry that you had to go through that on your own," he found himself saying quietly, reaching out, and taking her small, soft hand in his. "It's not a nice burden to bear. You deserved better," he continued, squeezing her hand tightly. "Elizabeth, I know that the situation we've found ourselves in is really awkward. I know that it isn't what you wanted. But I really think that we could make it work. If we just… _tried_," he murmured, not raising his head to meet her eyes. He didn't know if he could take the fury and hatred that had burned in them before a second time.

"Tried?"

"We don't have to be awkward acquaintances. We can be… friends. We can move at whatever pace we want, no one is expecting us to get married in the next month, it probably won't be for another two years, even if we do decide to announce our engagement today," he explained quietly.

"I don't think I could spend the rest of my life married to someone and only be his friend," she whispered in soft reply.

"Eli, it doesn't mean that we're going to be forced into anything. Your parents aren't going to drag you to the alter," he rationalised, wishing so desperately that she could just see reason, see sense, see him for the man in love that he was! "No one would just _force_ their child to get married. Don't you see? We can still try to make this work," he tried to convince her.

"Okay," she murmured. Darcy released a sigh of relief, but her saddened expression was causing him concern. Was she really so upset about the prospect of being with him? He reminded himself of his attempts to better himself in her eyes. He couldn't afford to shake her by the shoulders, screaming '_why don't you love me_?' "Why me?" she asked suddenly.

"What?"

"I mean… why me? Why am _I_ the one that's wearing your ring? Why not Clare? I mean, she's from a good family, she's got money, she's English, she's older than me, and she'd love to marry you," she questioned thoughtfully. "You're best friends with her brother, she comes from your society, why not her?" she probed.

"I… I'm not exactly 'fond' of Clare," he muttered, cringing at the memories he had of that… wench.

"You're not exactly 'fond' of me, either," she retorted. He gave a small sigh of frustration. What could he do? Confess his love for her, and just hope that she took it well? Reveal to her the truth of everything he had done to bring about the engagement that she so clearly dreaded?

"You _need_ to pick a bride, William," his Aunt had snapped to him over six weeks ago, as the end of term approached. "Now I won't take anymore of this nonsense. You have several perfectly reasonable choices, and I feel that it's quite time you –"

"Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth Bennett?" she questioned, her brow raised. William nodded.

"Yes. I pick her," he said simply, his tone devoid of any emotion. His aunt smirked.

"I knew it. I placed her before you for a reason, you know. I quite like Miss Bennett. She's strong, and very sharp. She will be a good wife for you," she stated smugly. "You have secured her good opinions?" she questioned, her tone suggesting that she never had any doubt of it. He nodded. "Very good. Francine will be pleased to hear so," she finishing with a small, pleased smile, continuing to butter her scone in silence.

_Why_ had he told her that he had her good opinions, if he didn't _know_? He had just assumed that she felt the same way he felt about her.

"I have my reasons, Elizabeth. And I will ask that you don't question them again," he said shortly, snapping back into reality. Eli looked somewhat surprised, but nodded regardless.

"Okay…" she murmured.

"We should start your singing lessons again. What about during our free periods at school?" he suggested.

"Don't you have your exams coming up?"

"I'll be fine. You still have a lot to learn," he replied. Frowning slightly, Eli nodded.

"Alright," she agreed.

"You're being… strangely obedient," he pointed out. Rolling her dark eyes in annoyance, she leant back on the bench, shifting to regain comfort, but never letting go of his hand.

"Let's just say that _I _have _my_ reasons, Will, and leave it at that. I'm giving you no guarantees, but I'm not… out ruling any possibilities," she said simply.

"I can live with that."

"I would hope so."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Darcy glanced over to his now silent companion. He just hoped that her reasons were growing to be very similar to his.

~ * ~

George smiled at the absolutely adorable image she presented before him. Hair tousled, shoes scattered across the floor, sitting cross legged on the couch, swaying softly to the music still playing quietly on the stereo, hiccupping every now and then, an empty glass of champagne held loosely in her hand. It had only taken a few glasses really, and she was already soused. At least tomorrow morning would be a good indicator for her that drinking like that in the future was a bad idea.

"Come on then Em, you had better get to bed," he announced, stepping across the room towards her. She glanced up at him, as if surprised to see him there, and then beamed.

"Hi George!" she greeted cheerfully. "I feel kind of funny. Like I'm a _rooooooooow-boooooooooat_," she informed him dreamily. Hiding a chuckle, he took the glass from her hand, and pulled her to her feet. "Hey? Did you know it's my birthday today?" she questioned in an excited whisper.

"Oh yes, I was aware," he replied, finding it very difficult to fight the grin that threatened to take over his lips.

"I'm _such_ a grown-up, George!" she sighed happily, leaning on him for support as he led her to her room, humming along softly to the music.

"Yes, Emilia. You're a big girl now," he humoured her.

"Hey! You didn't punch me! You _always_ punch me in my birthday!" she exclaimed in surprise.

"You're a grown-up now, Em. You don't need to be punched," he replied with a grin.

"Oh. What do they do for grown-ups?" she asked curiously, in a hushed, conspiratorial whisper.

"Well… grown ups get birthday kisses, I suppose," he shrugged, wishing that the words he had said had fallen on deaf ears. Wincing as he saw her expression of thought, he realised that they hadn't.

"But I never kissed _you_ on _your_ birthdays," she commented thoughtfully.

"That's quite alright, it's your birthday today," he replied, pulling her bedroom door open, and continuing the process of dragging her in. She sighed as she sat on the edge of the bed, still swaying softly.

"I had a _nice_ time, Georgie," she informed him dreamily, clutching onto his hand. Smiling, he sat down next to her.

"I'm glad. But you should be getting some sleep, you'll want to put off that hangover for as long as you can," he replied patiently.

"Gonna give me a birthday kiss?"

"Sure, Em," he laughed, pressing a light kiss to her cheek, like he had done so many times before. It was always light and playful, only teasing. Eyes half closed, Emilia swayed softly, turning her head to face his directly. Regarding him through her hazy, pale eyes, George's breath caught in his through.

And she kissed him. Pressing her lips against his all of a sudden, his entire body trembled with the sensation that he had been dreaming of for so long. Her hands loosely wrapped around his waist as he reciprocated the kiss, resisting the urge to bury his hands in her hair. It was slow, almost lazy, but held everything he had ever imagined and more.

"George?" he heard her whisper, parting slightly. Opening his eyes, and attempting to control his breathing, he sent out a silent prayer that he wasn't dreaming.

"Yes?" he questioned softly, but she had already fallen back atop the bed, her head resting on the pillow, soft curls spilling across her face. Sighing, and pushing back her hair, he pulled the blanket up to cover her precious body, before standing, and heading to the door.

Breakfast was going to be interesting the next day.

**A/N: So there was more 'gifted' angst, yes, I know, you're probably sick of it, but I wrote this chapter before I started posting and I'm too lazy to change it :D I've had a few people ask me questions about names and characters, so I'm going to give you a brief history and explanation. **

**Eli**** – It's pronounced E – LYE, not 'Ellie'. It's an unusual nickname, but I think it's cute. **

**Howl Llewellyn**** – The first name is pronounced exactly how it looks, it's a Welsh name that isn't hugely uncommon. He would actually spell it 'Howell' normally, like on his driver's license and that, but people just say and write 'Howl' normally. Llewellyn is pronounced 'LEW – ELLEN', it's both a surname and first name in Wales. He was born there, I was thinking somewhere south of Cardiff, with two very formal and traditional parents so he grew up speaking Welsh (which is probably the most beautiful language in the world) for the most part. He has one sister and two nephews, but never sees them because his sister refuses to speak to him, due to his 'illness'. He's about six to nine months older than George, and will soon be thirty. **

**Antoinette Noëlle ****– Prefers 'Toni'. She's Emilia's cousin on Emilia's mother's side, who was French born. Toni's father walked out on her when she was about sixteen or seventeen, and she and her mother moved to England. When Toni graduated Rosings Park she started going to art school in London, and her mother returned to France. She broke off all contact with everyone when her sister, Emilia's mother, died, including Toni. She will be twenty years old.**

**Llewellyn's illness**** – Well, some of you may have worked it out by this chapter. Sadly, I won't be spelling it out until chapter thirty-three. But I can give you some hints, you can't catch it from someone else, he's not terminal, there's no diagnosis, only symptoms, and there's no cure, only treatment. It's not genetic, but there's an increased likelihood that you'd have/get it if your parents do/did. Hope that helps, and happy hunting! One reader has already ruled out Lupus, AIDS/HIV, MS and epilepsy, so that limits your choices a little :D**


	23. Little Cracks

"_I think it's time, we give it up_

_And figure out what's stopping us_

_From breathing easy, and talking straight_

_The way is clear if you're ready now _

_The volunteer is slowing down_

_And taking time to save himself,"_

_-_Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova, 'Lies'

George Knightley stared at his cup of coffee, willing for it to blow up and take him with it.

"Can I get you anything else?" the chirpy little waitress asked pleasantly, bobbing up to him with a head full of flaming curls. She battered her eyelashes flirtatiously as she regarded her handsome customer.

"No, thank you. I'm just waiting for someone," he answered, without tone in his voice. The redhead's smile faltered only slightly.

"Well… alright then. Just call me if you need me!" she replied, her grin growing broader within seconds before she bustled away.

"Found a friend?" he heard a familiar muttering as Howl approached the table.

"You look like shit."

"So you do."

"I have a pretty good reason to look like crap, I'll thank you," he replied with a slight groan, recalling the events of the past few hours.

"I bet you that I can top it," Howl replied simply, as the waitress appeared once more, obviously thrilled that her handsome customer wasn't seeing a woman, and his attractive friend had come along too.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked, smiling prettily.

"Uh, coffee. Lots of coffee. Just straight, pure coffee," he requested tiredly. Scribbling it down, the waitress took the message to make her departure when he leant forwards on the table, and raking his hands through his dark blonde hair.

"So what did you do then?" George asked, feeling very much like his friend couldn't have outdone him in terms of screwing up completely.

"I slept with Antoinette."

"Oh," he replied mindlessly, taking a sip from his coffee. "Well that's not exactly a first, is it? You two have been off and on for over two years," he pointed out. "I honestly thought it would be worse than that. But oh well," he muttered.

"Don't you get it? I messed up with her – _again_!" he said with agitation. "We were arguing at your place last night, and then she kissed me… and we left together back to my place. She's still there," he sighed.

"Come off it Howl, you love the girl, and she loves you. You _know_ your reasons are crap," George argued.

"I'm terrified of what's going to happen when I have to end this again," he confessed in a soft murmur.

"You don't have to end it, man. You can't keep on hurting yourself, not to mention _her_!" he argued. Howl sighed, anxiously running his hands through his hair, clenching and unclenching his fist very quickly. "Did you talk to her this morning?" he questioned after a pause.

"Uhh… a little more than 'talk'," he admitted sheepishly. George groaned.

"Seriously, it's going to be bad for your health if you avoid her completely for two months and then spend a week shagging her non-stop," he pointed out, just as the waitress approached with Howl's coffee. Blinking in surprise, she put it down in silence, and backed away carefully. George was too agitated to laugh. "Well what did you say to her this morning, when you _weren't_ on top of her?" he questioned warily.

"I told her the truth. That I loved her, that I missed her. Everything was fine, until…" he muttered, trailing off. George raised a brow.

"Until what?" he questioned curiously.

"Well, until I got out of bed. I went to make coffee, and I just… _glanced_ at the medicine cabinet, and it all came rushing back to me. I can't have a normal relationship with her. With anyone. And she deserves better than that," he practically growled.

"Did you tell her that you were going out?"

"Yes. That was when I called you. I went back into the bedroom, and she was just… _there_, and so perfect. Do you know how perfect she is?" he exclaimed. Rolling his eyes, George urged him to continue. "I said I was going out. She asked me if I wanted her to go before I came back, and I said no. I told her to stay exactly where she was, not to move an inch," he sighed tiredly. "I _should_ have told her to go, but she just looked so…"

"Disappointed? Sad?"

"No. It was like she was expecting me to tell her to get out. I realised that she was so used to me doing this to her that she'd just… numbed herself to it," he sighed. "She didn't believe me, but she stayed anyway. She'll still be there when I get back," he muttered.

"What are you going to do, then?" George asked. He shrugged.

"I don't know. If I broke up with her now, I don't know what would happen. I… she'd be fine, but I…" he trailed off. "And if I stayed with her we'd be fine, but how long is it going to last? I – I don't think the treatment is working. All it takes is one bad day. What _happens_ when it's a bad day? How can I put her through – if I leave it and _then_ break up with her it would only be worse!" he growled in agitation.

"You're back at square one. Just go home and talk to her. She understands more than you think," he advised simply. "And the treatment _is _working. You're getting better," he added. Howl stared at his coffee blankly.

"She deserves better," was his final murmur. George bit back an objection, choosing not to argue with his friend when he was clearly down. "Well then? What about you?" Howl questioned, after a long pause and a deep sigh, his tone lighter and attempting cheerfulness. "You said something happened. What was it?" he asked, curiosity seeping into his voice.

"Emilia kissed me. Last night, just before she fell asleep," he stated finally, after another pause had passed.

"Shit. You let me go on for ten minutes, not saying a word about something like that?" he exclaimed in shock. "Well – what did she say? What kind of kiss was it? You aren't overreacting about a peck on the cheek, were you?" he asked warily.

"No, she just… kissed me, on the lips. It wasn't a 'hi, I'm just a friend' kiss, it was a 'hi, let's take our clothes off' kiss," he explained in agitation. "And she didn't say anything, just 'George'. She fell asleep right after," he added.

"Wow. You must be a shit kisser," Howl commented, trying to cover his shock with amusement. "Well what did you say to her this morning? Did she kiss you again?" he asked impatiently.

"I went into her room with coffee and some hangover food. She had _no_ recollection of the night," he groaned in agitation, pressing his head against the surface of the table. "Nothing. Other than seeing you grope Toni in the kitchen, that is. She had no idea about the kiss," he sighed miserably.

"Ah. And do you believe her?" Howl questioned in realisation. George shrugged, still not raising his head from the surface of the table.

"I have two conclusions. Either she really has no idea about what happened last night, or she _does_ remember, and regrets what happened, so she's saying she doesn't to avoid any awkwardness," he muttered.

"Well she was drinking a lot of champagne," Howl pointed out. "And she's never drunk before. Chances are the entire evening was a blur," he conceded.

"I know, but… I can't exactly bring it up for discussion, can I," George muttered in frustration, finally sitting up. "I'm just going to ignore it. If she doesn't remember, then I'm still where I was yesterday. If she does, then she'll say something if she wants to," he sighed.

"She's not like that. She probably hasn't got a clue about what happened," Howl replied.

"And how exactly am I going to know?" George questioned in frustrated reply, tugging at a handful of dark hair. Howl shrugged.

"God, women can be confusing," he muttered finally. Raising his coffee cup in mock toast, George sent his silent agreement.

Women were _very_ confusing.

~ * ~

The whispers of those at school never seemed to die down, no matter how much time had passed. The days had slowly been getting warmer, as had Eli's attitude towards Darcy. She still had her objections about him – she couldn't help but hold a slight grudge, but her affections were only increasing, as was her confusion.

"Girls! Boys! You all need to _quiet down_ and listen; we only have a limited amount of time, and today we're starting the rehearsals for Act one, Scene one!" Professor Drake announced in her crisp, clear voice to those assembled. "Now, if you're not performing in this musical or a stage hand, you need to leave this auditorium now!" she continued. A few grumbles were heard here and there, as several people stood up to leave the room. "I have here the final and official copy of the cast list. I will now read out the roles, so please try to remain silent so everyone can hear their parts," she announced. "We'll be going in alphabetical order from your first names, so pay very close attention," she added curtly.

Eli felt nauseous. She had been told quite clearly from Llewellyn that she had the part of Christine, but she was still terrified that something had happened to stop her from getting the role. She wouldn't be able to stand it if Clare had the part and stood on the stage, butchering it with her shrieking attempts at vibrato.

"Amanda K. Evans, Madame Giry. Adam J. L. Wilson, Joseph Bouquet, Blaise C. Thompson, Monsieur Firmin. Catherine L. Owens, chorus…"

"I wonder if she'll cry when I get Christine," Eli heard Clare muse smugly from a few feet behind her. "Oh, she'll be _so_ upset when I get to kiss Darcy, and he realises that he made a mistake, getting engaged to that frigid little bitch…" she muttered with a giggle.

"Clare M. Bingley, -"

"I _bet_ she'll cry."

"Carlotta Giudicelli. Christopher F. Graham, chorus."

"_NO!_" Clare screamed incredulously. "No, that's wrong! You read the wrong name! I'm _Christine_!" she shrieked. "No one else auditioned for that part! It's _my_ part!" she wailed.

"Miss Bingley, _please_ be quiet. No one can hear me over your incessant squawking. I made no mistake. You're Carlotta, _not_ Christine," Professor Drake snapped. "Now _please_ let me continue. Desdemona L. Smythe, ballet girl number three. Elizabeth A. Bennett, Christine Daaé. Evangeline –"

"That's not _fair_!" Clare screamed incredulously. "It's not _fair!_ She can't even sing! I've been taking opera lessons for years! I'm in upper-sixth! How the hell can you give _her_ the part?" she exclaimed.

"Miss Bennett auditioned for the role and was successful. We felt that she was the best candidate for the part," Professor Drake answered coolly. "She makes a perfect Christine. Her voice, her acting skills, her appearance, they all fit the bill perfectly," she snapped.

"But – but Christine needs to dance in the first scene! She can't dance!" she cried.

"Actually, she _can_. Clare, Elizabeth got the part, not you. Now _do_ be quiet, or you will have to leave the auditorium," she finished coolly, turning back to her list.

Eli tried not to blush under the stares of those around her. She heard their whispers, only those in her music class knew that she could sing. She was filled with a sense of pride as she realised that she really _did_ have the role, but she felt bad for Clare, to a degree. She had obviously wanted it very badly, but probably not as much as Eli herself wanted it.

"Gershom D. Wickham, the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. Hannah B. Laurels, chorus…"

Eli's ears perked up instantly. Gershom was going to be playing Raoul? The man that Christine ends up leaving the Phantom for? _God_, she thought, _that's going to upset Darcy_. How was he going to react, playing opposite Gershom on stage?

"William J. L. Darcy, the Phantom. Xavier R. Raymonds, Monsieur Firmin…"

So it was official. Darcy was Erik, the Phantom, and Gershom was Raoul. It was going to be an interesting musical, to be sure.

"You all received your scripts over the holidays, I trust?" Professor Drake questioned, and a vague murmur of agreement was heard throughout the room. "Good," she replied, checking something off her list. "And now, everyone take a rehearsal schedule. We will be practising every lunch, and after school two days a week. Every fortnight, we will have a full Saturday rehearsal. You were all expected to learn every song, not necessarily to perfection, but at least to familiarise yourself. There will be no excuse tomorrow lunch if you don't know what's going on when we rehearse Act One, scene One. Anyone not needed in that scene gets the lunch off," she informed them all, her booming voice ringing around the auditorium.

The rest of lunch was devoted to explaining the schedule that they would be following over the next few months, what commitments were necessary, and what the school expected of performers. Eli listened in silence, not wanting to turn around. She would meet either Clare's fiery eyes or Gershom's pleasant, insistent ones. He had been trying to speak to her ever since the fight between him and Darcy, but she had been pushing him away.

"So! We get to sing and act together then!" Gershom said excitedly, finding her after rehearsals had finished, and the students were allowed to return to the last half hour of lunch.

"I thought you were still doing detention," was her reply, as she put her script in her bag, and then pulled it over her shoulder.

"Meh, I'm just skipping one, I'll make up for it some other time. So, are you excited?" he questioned, flashing a brilliant smile

"I guess so," she replied, unsure of what she should say as they walked out of the auditorium.

"Yeah, I think we'll be great together on stage. We already connect so well," he said, as if to himself. "I mean, what could be better? Acting in a story about two people who love each other, it's a classic, even _with_ that villain," he laughed. "Oh well, poor Darcy, Christine picks the beauty, not the beast in the end!" he chuckled excitedly.

"I don't look at it like that," Eli replied with a frown. "I think Christine loved the Phantom too, I think she was just naïve with Raoul, but the Phantom taught her _real_ love, _real_ attraction. But it's a tragedy because the Phantom was so obsessed, so in love with her, that he ended up pushing her away for her own good," she rationalised. Gershom raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Really? Ha, I didn't really think it could be romanticised like that," he chuckled. "But it's cute that you think that. Sweet, really. I think we'll have fun performing this together," he added, reaching for her hand, and giving it a tight squeeze. Eli pulled away, even though they were now alone in the hallway, due to their dawdling. "Oh. I see. Darcy has you on that tight a leash then?" he questioned, a little coldly.

"Darcy hasn't got me on _any_ leash, and it's none of your business. I have other reasons," she replied firmly. And she did. There was something about Gershom that unnerved her; made her uneasy… she didn't trust him.

"Sorry. You're right," he sighed, before giving a tiny, bitter smile. "I guess I'll see you in rehearsals, Eli," he said finally, before turning heel, and leaving her alone.

Eli sighed. Why _had_ she pulled away?

After all, she and Darcy had never really set any boundaries about dating… they were going to give their engagement a try, but they both knew very well that it wasn't going to work. But she still knew that she couldn't just cheat on Darcy like that, no matter how much she disliked him. If only she knew his real reasons for picking _her_, she wouldn't be so confused!

But one thing was for certain. Darcy did _not_ have her on a leash.

"So how was your first rehearsal?" the man himself asked curiously only a few minutes later, after finding her and suggesting they take a walk around the thawing grounds.

"Oh. It was alright, we just had the usual expectations speech," she replied. "Clare was _furious_ that I got Christine over her, she complained all through," she added, rolling her eyes.

"Hmm. I assume she got Carlotta?" he questioned, to which she nodded. "It's quite fitting, really," he muttered thoughtfully.

"Emilia will be thrilled. She's doing the costumes, she's already got some ideas for some really _horrible_ looking dresses for Carlotta," she laughed.

"Is she doing _all_ the costumes?" he asked curiously.

"Well, she's designing them, and she'll be working on some of them, but the textiles students will be doing most of them," she replied with a shrug.

"Hmm. I'll have to have a word with her then," he muttered under his breath. "How are you going with that piece from _Wicked_? I didn't know you were going to be doing piano and vocals on it," he questioned, changing the subject.

"Oh, fine. It's not too difficult, really," she replied, with a light shrug. "And how about you? Have you started working on your composition pieces for your finals?" she questioned, recalling once more that soon it would be exams, and the upper sixth formers would be finishing school.

"Yes, I… I've been working on my pieces for a while now," he muttered distractedly. "They'll be ready in time. I'm certain of it," he assured her.

Eli chewed her lip. She didn't know why she didn't just tell him that Gershom was playing Raoul, what would it matter? It was just that Darcy _never_ spoke of Gershom, whilst Gershom would often speak of Darcy. She couldn't help but wonder if maybe Darcy was hiding something about his past with him… After all, she had been so honest with her history that night after Emilia's party, why couldn't he offer her the same curtesy?

"You okay?" he questioned, startling her from her thoughts.

"Oh, fine…" she muttered. No, she wouldn't tell him. She wasn't obligated to, and besides, she thought, chances were he probably already knew.

~ * ~

"No, Eli, you have to raise your leg properly," Jay sighed to her sister, immediately rising to her points, and raising up her leg in a slow, graceful move that could bring tears to any grown man's eye. Eli grumbled angrily, and lowered herself back to stand on her feet as they had been intended to stand on.

"This is ridiculous! I joined this musical to _sing_ and to _act_, I _hate_ dancing!" she snapped.

"This is easy. You'd have to be thick not to be able to get this!" Jay exclaimed with exasperation. Eli rolled her eyes angrily, and crossed her arms.

"Fine. I guess we'll try again," she muttered with a sigh. Jay stepped towards the CD player, pressed play, and they began the dance again. Eli moved as gracefully as she could, elegantly raising her leg behind her, before practically throwing herself at the ground in one fluid motion, holding her hands together, as if they were really bound by the prop chains that they would soon enough.

"_Finally_!" Jay cried. "Well _hopefully_ you'll be fine," she declared, turning off the CD player. Eli sighed, and sat on the floor, legs stretched out before her.

"How are you then?" she questioned suddenly, when she had regained her breath.

"Fine," Jay answered shortly, taking a seat on her bed and pulling off her points.

"So… you're happy?" she asked, carefully trying to examine her sister's facial expressions. She seemed to be devoid of any joy, she was moody and easily irritated. Ever since Char had 'dumped her' she had been loosing her spirit, throwing herself into her dancing and nothing else. Eli could understand, she was like that with her music, but it pained her to see Jay so upset.

"Perfectly," she answered, but the shadow of sorrow behind her eyes revealed her truth. Eli sighed; she knew that Jay didn't like to talk about it. Full stop. Char was a name that was never brought up around her, as a rule.

"Well… okay then. Thanks for teaching me the dance," she replied, pushing back her curls from her face. She glanced over to her sister with an expression of pain. Something had changed when Char stopped speaking to her, she just… they had been drifting apart for a while. Eli wasn't sure when it had started, but she could trace it back to around their moving to England. Jay just wasn't her best friend anymore, not like who she used to be.

"Not a problem. I've got to go, but we can talk later, okay?" she said, jumping off the bed, tying her bouncing blonde locks back with a hair elastic, picking up her points, and practically skipping out of Eli's room.

"Right… see you then," Eli muttered, but it fell on deaf ears. She gave a small sigh of frustration. Why did everything in her life suddenly merit intense inspection? Sitting down atop her bed, she opened her laptop, and clicked on the little Internet Explorer window she had minimized.

Theatrical + company + London

The google search produced almost a million hits. Chewing her lip, she started to go through selections and websites. She was quite sure that it was what she wanted to do for the rest of her life… she wanted to perform. Of course she wanted to go to University, but not to be a doctor. There were many more opportunities to become a performer if she remained in England than if she were to return to Australia.

What should she do? Obviously she wasn't marrying Darcy, but when the musical was over, where would she go? What would she do?

Sighing, she closed her laptop, and fell back into her bed, glaring at the ceiling, but still, no answers came.

~ * ~

"Chorus, I need you to _stay in formation!_" screeched Professor Drake anxiously, clutching her clipboard tightly as she attempted to direct the group of fifteen disgruntled boys and girls who hadn't made the cut to get solos.

"Come on guys, we need to get this right," Llewellyn rephrased, his voice calm and cool, washing over the strain of Professor Drake's. "We've almost finished the first scene, and you've all done _great_. But we just need to run through once or twice, just to make sure," he added rationally, however, the weary tones crept into his voice, leaving no one in doubt of his tiredness.

"Yes, yes, do as Howl – I mean, _Professor Llewellyn_ says!" Drake agreed anxiously.

"This prop is _pathetic_!" Clare screeched angrily, holding up a pillow with a few red streamers attached at the base, supposedly symbolising the severed head that her character in the fictitious opera 'Hannibal' being practised in the opening scene of the musical, the Queen of Carthage, a gift from her lover as his army attempted to defend the land from a Roman invasion.

"It's not the _real_ prop we're going to be using, Clare," Llewellyn said tiredly, rubbing his temples. Everyone was sick of Clare already – she was a little _too_ good at playing Carlotta, she screeching soprano star with no talent, but a _very_ big ego. Like Carlotta, Clare had demanded that she be treated like the star of the show, furiously denying any attention to go to any other member of the cast.

"Well I don't like it!" she snapped anyway.

"Clare, no more complaining. Sing your part," he said finally, his tone growing tense and agitated. Clare grudgingly moved back on the stage to her designated place, muttering about the un-professionalism of it all. "All the girls playing slaves need to go back to their spots – you're getting mixed up in the chorus," he sighed.

"Come on guys, let's just try and do _one_ decent run through," Eli called to the other girls playing ballerinas in the first scene. Llewellyn shot her a thankful smile as he found his way to one of the hundreds of black chairs in the auditorium. He rested his head in his hands, and continued to rub his temples.

Rehearsals had been going on for a week, and they were almost finished the first scene in terms of acting. The music still needed a lot of work, but that could come later. But Eli had noted the strain on the musical director of the entire production. Llewellyn had been acting strangely of late. He was always tired, often distracted, he very rarely smiled, and occasionally she would spot him staring at nothing with the saddest expression on his face. He seemed to be falling apart at the seams, but she suspected that the cause was a little more serious than Clare's constant complaints.

"_This trophy, from our saviours, from our saviours, from the enslaving force of Rome!_" Clare sung, her voice high and hideously sharp, fitting for the character. However, Clare wasn't sounding bad on purpose… she couldn't sing opera. At _all_.

"_With feasting and dancing and song tonight,_

_In celebration we greet the victorious throng,_

_Returned to bring salvation_" sung the chorus, drowning out Clare's hideous noises.

Eli fought to keep her movements fluid and graceful like the other dancers. The difference was that those dancers actually _took_ lessons, and had learnt properly, whereas Eli hadn't gone to a dance lesson in years, and remembered next to none of her old ballet classes, other than avoiding them anyway she knew how. She danced with as much passion as she could, but her passion was for music, not dance!

And so it went. Three students, Xavier, Louis and Marshall, entered the stage, acting as the former manager and his two successors for the Paris Opera House. Clare strutted and preened as only she knew how. It nearly made Eli sick, to think how much practise Clare must have had for being the diva.

"Cue the first track," Llewellyn called to the stage hands waiting in the wings. Suddenly the instrumental track of the first song, '_Think of Me_' started to play, and Clare started to sing.

Eli had to hide back a wince. After all, the performance was _supposed_ to be bad, as Carlotta embarrassed herself before the new managers, but not _that_ bad!

Her cue came in after Carlotta had stormed out off the stage, after being nearly killed by a falling prop, and the music began again as her character demonstrated her singing skills to the new managers.

"_Think of me, think of me fondly,_

_When we've said goodbye_

_Remember me, once in a while,_

_Please promise me you'll try_

_When you ever find, that once again you long,_

_To take your heart back and be free,_

_If you ever have a moment,_

_Spare a thought for me,_"

Her voice was strong and clear, rising above the whispers of the dancers and the chorus. Whilst that _was_ in the script, she knew full well that their words weren't scripted. It was always like that, every time she sang. The rumours had started that Darcy only liked her because he had crafted her crystal voice with his own hands. Still, it was better than the _other_ rumours.

As the aria ended, Llewellyn gave a relieved sigh.

"You sounded perfect as always, Eli," he said thankfully. "And Gershom, that was nicely done, but you still need to work on your transitioning. But you all did quite well. Next week we start scene two," he congratulated them, before the rehearsal broke up.

"Hey Eli! We sounded great together, didn't we!" Gershom said excitedly as Eli went to her bag, and put away her script.

"Yeah. Wonderful," she muttered.

"Are you excited about next week? We get a one on one scene," he added, smiling beguilingly.

If Eli had replied what she _wanted_ to reply, Gershom would definitely be quite offended. She was dreading the next week's rehearsals, because it meant Darcy, their Phantom, will be joining them. Not only was she apprehensive about working so closely with him once more, she hadn't told him that Gershom was playing the role of Raoul, and she _knew_ that he wasn't going to take it well. Either she could tell him over the weekend, or just wait for him to make the discovery himself. The coward in her wanted to wait, but could she do it? Could she really put Darcy in such a position?

"Umm… sure, Gershom. I have to go, I have a class," she lied, pulling her bag over her shoulder.

"Oh, yeah, me too. I guess I'll see you then," Gershom replied, glancing at his watch, disappearing with a broad grin and a wave of his sandy hair. Eli rolled her eyes. He was starting to bug her.

"You sung that well," she heard Llewellyn comment as she readied herself to leave the auditorium. He was packing up the spare scripts that always sat on the table in case someone forgot theirs, which was quite often.

"Thanks. But I still have to work on it," she sighed with a shrug. He chuckled in reply.

"You're such a perfectionist," he laughed. "Seriously, you're doing well. Your voice has improved to astounding levels, I can hardly believe it. It's like you found your very own 'angel of music'," he commented, his amber eyes twinkling for the first time in what could have been a week.

"Well… Darcy is a pretty good tutor," she conceded simply.

"It's not all down to Darcy. It's your hard work too, Eli," he replied. She nodded slowly.

"Umm… sir, are you okay? You just seem… well, lately you've been a little bit… strange," she muttered, finally airing her thoughts. She had a good relationship with Llewellyn, she felt like she could trust him with everything. He was very easy to talk to.

"I… there are a few things going on in my life at the moment, Eli," he admitted finally. She raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Is it about that girl at Emilia's party? Toni?" she questioned, her dark eyes sparkling conspiratorially. Llewellyn hung his head slightly, a soft blush rising on his cheeks. "Because I really liked her. She was very funny," she informed him. His lips twitched in what could have been a smile.

"Yes, she's quite amusing…" he murmured.

"And really pretty. Kind of like Agyness Deyn," she added cheekily. Llewellyn chuckled.

"You've been spending a little too much time around Emilia," he replied. Beaming at his comment, Eli nodded.

"As much as I can. She likes Toni too," she informed him. He smiled softly.

"She's a lovely young woman," he conceded slowly. "But Eli, I can't have you meddling. It's not as simple as you and Emilia understand," he added, a hint of sternness seeping into his tone. Eli nodded.

"I understand. It's just… well, maybe I'm crazy, but you seem kind of down. Is this musical wearing on you?" she questioned sympathetically. Llewellyn chuckled.

"You never cease to astound me. I'm flattered at your concern, Eli, but my troubles are very familiar to me. It's nothing for you to be worried about," he assured her, giving a small, genuine smile.

"Alright… but you have to start smiling again next week, or I'll throw a Clare and refuse to perform," she threatened. He gave a deep, breathy chuckle, the sparkle returning to his eyes.

"In that case, I'll be as cheerful as you wish, Eli," he assured her. "Now you had better be off to class," he said finally, collecting his books.

Eli checked her watch, and cursed beneath her breath. She was late for her singing lessons with Darcy. Hurrying over to their usual room, she pulled the door open as quickly as she could.

"You're late."

"I know. I was talking to Llewellyn."

"You've just wasted five minutes. I hope you're warmed up, because we don't have all the time in the world," he said sharply, shifting from his place leaning against the wall and moving to the piano. "We're going to sing _Pie Jesu_. I think now that you've got your head around all the pieces from _The Phantom_ we should move onto some choral works," he announced, handing her the sheet music for the piece. "Its starts on a high C, there's a reasonable jump to the A flat in the eighth bar, but you should survive," he announced, ever the professional.

For the next hour Eli sang the same notes, the same piece, over and over again, with Darcy constantly picking at every detail as he always did. But she wasn't blind. She could admit, despite her pride, that her voice had never sounded better. It was so foreign to her, the sounds coming from her throat, they sounded… crystal. She sounded like an angel, and she had only Darcy to thank for it.

"Your projection is still a little short. I think once you've gotten this down, and _Ave Maria_, we should do some more modern attempts at opera. I've found a few surprisingly good songs by Il Divo – particularly _Adagio_, in terms of pitch it's no challenge, but it would give you a chance to work on your projection," he announced as the bell rang for next class, closing his sheet music book and sliding it into his bag.

"How do you know so much about music?" she found herself asking all of a sudden. He glanced at her face in silent surprise.

"You play the piano and guitar just as well as I do, you have just as much knowledge of musical theory as I. Why is it such a shock to you?" he questioned in response.

"I'll rephrase that. How do you know so much about singing?" she clarified.

"Oh. My mother was an opera singer," he replied simply, picking up his bag. "She gave me lessons every day since I could speak," he explained.

"She must have been pretty good…" Eli muttered beneath her breath. True, they were matched for skill on the piano and for knowledge of musical theory, but his knowledge of the art of singing was just incredible. He seemed to know how to craft her voice to perfection. Maybe he _was_ her angel with music, she thought with the tiniest of smiles.

"She was," he replied, clearly hearing her muttering. "She was very good. And she was a good teacher," he informed her simply. "I'm going to be spending this weekend with Georgie. It's her birthday," he added, not even glancing at her for her reaction.

"Oh. I doubt you can wish her a happy birthday for me," she replied, picking up her bag.

"She doesn't know about you."

"Yes, I – well, make sure to spoil her then," she muttered, swinging her bag over her shoulder.

"But… maybe next weekend, we could so something," he suggested, somewhat awkwardly. Eli raised an eyebrow curiously. "You could pick something for us to do together. Other than practising your singing, that is," he offered.

"Umm… sure, I guess. That sounds okay," she replied, slightly surprised. Was he talking about a _date_?

"Alright. I'll see you on Monday then," he said briefly, slipping out of the music room.

Eli stared at the spot where he had stood with a slight frown on her face.

Darcy wanted to go on a date… with _her_?

**A/N: I can't think of anything important to say… hmmm… Oh! I've decided a name for the sequel! It will be called 'say it to me now', and is based around a song from the film 'Once' and is performed by Glen Hansard called 'say it to me now'. I'm really into Glen Hansard right now – Irish rock is epic. I wish I were Irish!**


	24. She's not Toni

"_There's still a little bit of your ghost, your weakness,_

_There's still a little bit of your face, I haven't kissed,_

_We step a little closer each day,_

_But I can't say what's going on,_"

- Damien Rice, 'Cannonball'

Eli was a bundle of nerves as she headed towards the auditorium at the start of lunch. It was the first rehearsal of the week, where they would be running through the second scene. The scenes which had both the Phantom and Raoul de Chagny… Gershom and Wickham, sharing the same stage.

"Good afternoon, Eli," Llewellyn greeted pleasantly as she walked towards the stage where the other performers were assembled. He looked better than he had the week before, as if he had gotten a bit more sleep, and his expression wasn't filled with poorly hidden misery.

"Oh, hi sir," she muttered, glancing anxiously around the room, searching for two faces in particular.

"Uhh… nervous much?" he questioned, following her gaze around to try and discover the object of her anxiousness.

"William doesn't know that Gershom is playing Raoul," she said simply. Llewellyn's eyes widened slightly, and his mouth formed a slight 'oh'.

"Eli, it might have been a good idea to tell him _before_ he finds out this way," he pointed out calmly. Eli sighed.

"I know – it's just that… well, I don't want Darcy to think that I'm on his side about that fight they had. I think they were both idiots," she muttered out sheepishly.

"Go tell him. Gershom always comes late to every rehearsal, now is your only chance," Llewellyn whispered as the side doors to the auditorium opened, and Darcy walked through them.

"I hate it when people are right…" Eli said miserably, before walking up the side isle to meet him.

"Hey. Have you warmed up?" Darcy greeted her, not noting her slightly downcast expression until she stood right in front of him. "Uh… everything alright?" he questioned with slight concern.

"Listen, I should have told you before, but I knew you'd get pissed," she sighed admittedly, running her hand through her hair with poorly hidden anxiousness.

"Tell me what?" he questioned with great suspicion, his brow furrowed slightly. "Elizabeth, is everything –"

"Gershom is playing Raoul."

_Oh shit_, Eli thought to herself, _obviously he DIDN'T know_.

Darcy's eyes instantly went dark with anger, his face transforming from confusion to fury.

"I – why didn't you _tell_ me?" he hissed angrily. Eli winced.

"I kind of assumed that you knew. And if you didn't know, I knew that you'd freak out about it…" she muttered ashamedly. She knew that she should have told him.

"Freak out? Elizabeth – do you have _any_ idea –" he exclaimed, beginning to pace, running his hand through his dark hair with great agitation.

"It'll be fine! You two can just avoid each other when you're not rehearsing, and try not to get too carried away in the fight scenes!" she tried to rationalise.

"How could they give him a lead role? Didn't it occur to them that he's a _bastard_?" he questioned furiously, the speed of his pacing increasing as his anger rose.

"He can sing, Will! He can sing and he can act – you can't deny that!" she objected.

"Why are you _defending _him? You're supposed to be on _my_ side!" he snapped in retort.

"I'm not on anyone's side – just because _you_ hate Gershom it doesn't mean I do too!" she replied, her frustration growing as quickly as his.

"I'm sorry, have you forgotten that he hit you?" he questioned sarcastically.

"You were just as responsible for that as he was – I haven't forgiven either you, and I'm not picking sides. He's a good performer, Darcy," she snapped in response.

"Oh yes, and I'm sure he's a _very_ ideal Raoul, you must be thrilled to act alongside him! I'm sure he's just your type," he muttered in bitter sarcasm.

"Shutup, Darcy. I'm not engaged to Gershom, might I remind you. I know you don't like him, but I don't understand your problem!" she replied angrily. "I mean, _you_ have the lead, and you didn't even need to audition to get it! It just fell into your lap!" she snapped.

"Has it occurred to you, Elizabeth, that I have an actual _reason_ to dislike Gershom?" he questioned her coolly. "And I _do_ have a problem with him acting in this. How do you think I'm going to feel, watching that _slime_ put his hands on you? Watching him _kiss_ you as you sing one of the most famous love songs in the world to each other?" he asked pointedly.

"You're actually _jealous_?" she exclaimed in complete surprise. "Jesus Christ Darcy, what kind of girl do you take me for? I might have been forced into this engagement, but I won't cheat on you," she snapped firmly. "I'm sorry. I know I should have told you sooner, but there's nothing you can do. Just try to ignore him as best you can," she finished.

Darcy stopped pacing, and sent her a rather angry glance.

"Let's go," he barked, taking her by the wrist, and marching down to the front. He stopped in front of Llewellyn, still not releasing his hold on Eli. "I don't want Gershom kissing Eli," he announced suddenly.

"That would be something between Eli and Gershom, but I assume you're talking about Christine and Raoul, am I correct?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Either find another Raoul, or get rid of the kiss. I won't have _him_ kissing my fiancée," he snapped.

"Eli, do you feel uncomfortable kissing Gershom onstage?" Llewellyn questioned rationally.

"I don't care. Really, I don't have a problem with it," Eli replied, glaring at Darcy. "I know I'll be _acting_, so I don't find it a big deal! Keep the kiss in, we shouldn't change the script," she snapped, her eyes never leaving Darcy's face.

"Gershom has _no_ right to put his filthy hands on you!" he growled in response. "Have you forgotten exactly who's ring your wearing? Or did you keep this a secret from me because you _want_ to kiss Gershom?" he questioned angrily, keeping his voice low.

"Darcy. I'm not making a big deal of this like _you_ are because _I_ can understand that it's just acting, it's not a real kiss, and he and I have no feelings for each other," she said calmly, running her hands through her hair in agitation. "You have no reason to feel jealous. It's just a fake kiss, nothing real," she clarified simply. Darcy looked very much like he had swallowed a lemon.

"Darcy, it's not my place to say, but I suggest you have a little faith in Eli," Llewellyn said finally, breaking the silence.

"Fine. Whatever," Darcy muttered angrily, turning heel and heading over to the stage. He sat on the steps, a few metres away from everyone else who was waiting to be directed for the next scene.

"God! He's such a ­–"

"Boy." Llewellyn finished simply for Eli, interrupting the beginning of her angry rant.

"A boy? I would say a prick, sir," she muttered in irritated response.

"Eli, he's a boy, and he's jealous that his girlfriend will be kissing another boy, particularly one that he doesn't like. It's very understandable," he rationalised.

Eli thought over his words. Was she really Darcy's girlfriend? She had _no_ idea. He seemed to be under the pretence that they were engaged, and to all appearances, they _were_, but… was she his girlfriend?

"Just… go give him a hug or something. He looks miserable," he suggested. Sighing, Eli picked up her bag, and wandered over to him.

"I don't like Gershom," she said simply. Darcy didn't raise his eyes.

"You don't like _me_, either," he replied. Eli let out a growl of irritation, and did something that completely surprised the both of them. She sat down on the step beside him, took his hand in hers, and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Raoul kisses Christine once. Christine kisses the Phantom twice. _And_ the Phantom feels her up twice too," she reminded him playfully.

"Christine leaves the Phantom for Raoul, in case you forgot," he pointed out a little bitterly.

"Yes… but I always hated that part," she replied simply. "I always wanted Christine to end up with the Phantom. Screw Raoul. He had bad sideburns, anyway," she rationalised teasingly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the slightest of grins pass over Darcy's handsome face. "Still pissed off?" she questioned softly.

"No. I'm not angry," he muttered with a slight sigh, shifting so he could loosely wrap his arm around her waist. She shivered with his touch, the feel of his warm hands encircling her taking over the confusion she felt. So what if he had a need to claim her as his possession? She hated him, but she liked him too. Neither of them were _really_ being fair.

But it felt so good, anyway.

"God, they're _so_ cute together," Amanda Evans whispered to Michelle a few metres away, a dreamy expression crossing her face.

"God, we're _so_ lucky Clare isn't in this scene. She'd go _nuts_," Michelle muttered. "I mean, I _get_ that she doesn't like Bennett, but can't she just get over herself?" she questioned with quiet exasperation.

"Clare will _never_ get over herself. She's a bitch, plain and simple. She hates Bennett for stealing her boyfriend _and_ her part in the musical," Amanda rationalised.

"Bennett didn't 'steal' anything, Clare never had a chance. She's just uptight because suddenly _she's_ not the most talented girl in school," Michelle retorted.

"She never _was_! She can't sing a note; I wish she'd just stop screeching!" Amanda giggled. "No wonder Bennett got the part, she sings like an angel. I've never heard anything like it before. Clare will _never_ be able to sing like that," she added.

"Clare never had you as an instructor," Eli laughed quietly into Darcy's shoulder.

"And I thank God everyday for that," he muttered in reply, rolling his pale eyes.

"Oh. Hey Eli," a greeting came from the side isles up to the stage as Gershom's eyes fell on the two.

"Hey Gershom," she replied simply, as Darcy tightened his grip on her waist.

"So… ummm… did you have a good weekend?" he questioned curiously, avoiding Darcy's glare.

"It was alright," she informed him with a lithe shrug, before turning her head back to Darcy's shoulder. She felt him press a soft kiss to her brow, his hold on her tightening even more. Gershom's eyes narrowed as Darcy began tenderly nuzzling the side of her face with his, pressing soft kisses to her brow and cheek.

A flash of something unsaid passed between Gershom and Darcy as their eyes connected, but Gershom conceded his loss – he seemed rather put out as he looked at the seemingly very happy couple, before wandering over to the other side of the room, sitting in silence against the other staircase as Llewellyn and Drake called the rehearsal to order.

They got right into the stage directions before they actually sung the songs, playing the instrumental track through the auditorium's speakers as the actors and actresses accustomed themselves to their cues.

"Now what makes a musical different to a simple play, other than the lack of singing and dancing," Llewellyn began, addressing the entire group, "is the cues. In a play, your cues will be the other performer. But in a musical, your cues can be a particular note, a number of bars, one rest, anything. That makes it harder in some ways, but easier in others," he continued to explain, before they went about familiarising everyone with their musical cue for each part.

Eli sat tensely in the chair in front of a small desk, which was supposed to act as her dressing room until the final props were completed.

"Ah, Vicomte! Vicomte, I think we've made quite a discovery with miss Daaé!" Marshall announced, speaking as Monsieur Andre as he led Xavier, who was Monsieur Firmin, to the dressing room door.

"Perhaps we could present her to you, dear Vicomte," Xavier suggested, as Gershom glanced at the dressing room door.

"Gentlemen, this is one visit I would prefer to make unaccompanied," he replied, before pushing open the door.

Eli tensed the moment he came in the room. She could feel Darcy's eyes on her, watching to see if she actually did have feelings for Gershom.

She just hoped he could realise that she was only acting when she smiled prettily at the Vicomte, but she knew he would be jealous all the same.

Somehow, that little thought actually… pleased her?

Eli listened intently after Raoul had gone, and Darcy's voice filled the stage. She _wished_ that he were singing the lines, she was so very desperate to hear him sing! But no, they spoke the lines, as they would until they had worked through all the acting in the scene.

"You act well," Darcy commented to her after the rehearsal had finished. She gave a quiet smile.

"Thanks. I've always loved acting, but Dorr never thought that it was a 'real' profession, so I never pursued it," she sighed wistfully.

"And were you acting before Gershom came in at the start of rehearsals?" he questioned quietly, glancing around the auditorium to ensure they were alone.

"No," she replied simply, standing up, and slipping her bag over her shoulder. "That wasn't an act," she informed him honestly. "Were _you_ acting?" she questioned. He shook his head.

"No. I don't act around you," he replied in equal honesty. "The thing is… I liked holding you like that. And I didn't want it to be just to make me forget about Gershom," he said slowly, stepping forwards hesitatingly – but his step was loaded with purpose all the same.

"Y – You did?" she questioned incredulously. He nodded quite seriously.

"And I really don't want him kissing you. But you reminded me that… _I _get to kiss you. Twice. And I get to touch you. And not as innocently as Gershom does," he continued, taking another step forward. Eli was having trouble breathing, but not in a bad way. "And I'm really looking forward to that… but I don't want to wait till opening night," he murmured, so close that she could feel his warmth against her skin.

"Y – you don't hate me?" she questioned, her mind empty of all thought.

"Not at all," he replied, shaking his head softly, his intense eyes burning into her very soul.

"And… you don't want to wait until opening night to kiss me…" she clarified.

"I don't think I _can_ wait."

"And… you aren't just saying this because of Gershom…" she trailed off.

"No, I'm not," he informed her honestly. "I want to kiss you. I just don't want you to cry and have a panic attack this time," he stated clearly.

"Ah. Yes, that was probably a bit of a mood killer," she conceded, wondering how she was even _able_ to speak at such a time.

"So…"

"So."

"I'll take that as a 'yes' then," he murmured finally, moving forwards, and claiming Eli's lips with his.

_Yep_, Eli decided, _there won't be any panic attacks _this_ time_.

~ * ~

Things picked up considerably from then on for Eli and Darcy. But whilst they both had rapidly growing attractions for each other, neither had come forward to admit their feelings, simply basking in the glow that their newly founded relationship was providing. They were now comfortable enough with each other to chat about everything and nothing, to hold hands in public, to kiss and be kissed without shame, and whilst neither knew where the other stood, they were happy enough in their little bubble.

Eli resisted the urge to squeal as she felt one large hand sweep over her eyes from behind, the other wrapping tightly around her waist, insistent lips pressed to the back of her neck.

"Good afternoon," Darcy greeted cheerfully, his voice rumbling and deep, his breath warm on her skin.

"You _really_ have to stop doing that," she murmured, trying to pull away from him. He chuckled, and held her tighter to his chest, his hand snaking around to rest on the side of her hip.

"And why, pray tell, is that?" he questioned teasingly, tilting her head back with his hand still pressed over her eyes.

"Someone will see you. And send you to a nut house," she said, before he pressed his lips over hers.

"Well no one's around," he pointed out, removing his hand from her eyes to reveal the empty hallway.

"You underestimate Clare's ability to pop out from nowhere," she challenged, her eyes twinkling playfully as she pulled her books out of her locker. "Hold," she requested, passing him her bag.

"Oh, _I_ understand the relationship now," he grumbled, as she slid her books into the open bag.

"Jeez, you're quick," she retorted teasingly, taking her bag off him and sliding it over her shoulder. "Come on then, music awaits," she instructed, stepping forwards in the direction of Llewellyn's classroom.

"It can wait a little longer," he murmured, pulling her by the wrist to the small alcove beneath the stairs.

"Will! Come on, let me go! Seriously, do _you_ want to explain to Llewellyn as to why we were late?" she questioned, hiding back a laugh as he pulled her insistently to his chest.

"As a matter of fact, I _do_," he murmured, placing his lips just below her earlobe, a point he had discovered that when kissed correctly, usually left her unable to think, let alone resist. "I'll try it out on you then, shall I?" he suggested. "'Good afternoon sir, I apologise for being late, but I was snogging Elizabeth in the hall – a far more preferable pastime to sitting in class with Clare screeching unbearably'," he recited. "Now how does that sound?" he questioned her quite seriously.

"It sounds like the worst excuse I've ever –"

"I wouldn't advise you try it, Mister Darcy. Now unhand Miss Bennett and get to class, if you please," Llewellyn requested pleasantly from just outside their alcove. Darcy swore beneath his breath, and let go of Eli, pulling her out from beneath the stairs. "Afternoon, William, Eli. Please don't dawdle," he added, trying to hide the smirk from his lips.

"That's karma for you," Eli muttered to Darcy, looking very red-faced as Darcy pulled his bag back onto his back.

"Eli, off to class please. I need a small word with your partner in crime," Llewellyn requested.

"Uhh… sir, it was just as much my fault, I didn't exactly protest," Eli murmured in Darcy's defence.

"Eli, class please. I'd hate to yell at you after such a good performance last rehearsal," he added.

"But he – oh, fine then," Eli agreed finally, hazarding one last glace to Darcy before rushing off to class.

"No one saw us," Darcy stated the moment she was out of earshot. "There isn't a rule against it, and we weren't late to class yet," he added defensibly.

"I'm not getting you in trouble. I just want a quick word in my office for a moment," Llewellyn stated calmly. Darcy raised an eyebrow in confusion, before reluctantly following him to his office.

"So obviously this is a little more important than you telling me off for snogging Elizabeth in the hallway," Darcy stated the moment the door had closed. Llewellyn sighed as he moved over to his desk and sat atop it, his hands folded calmly in his hands.

"Darcy, I'm going to be honest with you. I'm concerned about you and Eli," he said calmly.

"I didn't realise our engagement was a matter of your concern," Darcy replied in cool defence.

"Eli has been speaking to me for a few months now about certain things that I'm quite sure she hasn't discussed with you," he began, his voice calm and level.

"If this is about her parents, then she's told me. It won't be a problem when she moves out," he replied immediately. Llewellyn's brows shot up, his amber eyes filled with concern and curiosity.

"No. She's never told me much about her parents," he said slowly. Darcy cursed his own stupidity.

"Well what _did_ she talk to you about?" he questioned insistently.

"She told me what happened on the night she found out about her impending marriage," he said, once more keeping his voice free of any emotion, he was cool, detached, and almost indifferent. Darcy's fist clenched instantly.

"That's between Elizabeth and I," he practically growled.

"No, Darcy, it includes me too, because she came to me for help and advice. And I made a promise to her that I would help her as best I can. That I would protect her as best I can," he replied sternly. "And I don't take promises lightly. She's a very special young lady, and I don't intend on seeing her hurt," he added, his tone no longer light, but very serious.

"I would never hurt her," Darcy defended himself.

"You already have, Darcy, and I don't want that to happen again," Llewellyn said severely. "She told me exactly what happened that night. And whilst I know that _yes_, it is a matter concerning the two of you, that's not going to stop me from being honest with you about this," he added, amber eyes flashing darkly.

"I frightened her. I understand that, and I wish I hadn't, but I can't take it back," Darcy confessed with agitation.

"You have no idea _how_ badly you frightened her! Darcy, she doesn't even know about sex! She was sitting in front of me in tears, thinking that she was a slut for everything that happened!" he objected strongly. "Now I know it's not my place to –"

"You're damned _right_ it's not your place!"

"I wouldn't have gotten involved if I didn't think she needed me to, William!" Llewellyn argued. "Now I'm glad that she obviously seems comfortable enough to let you kiss her. That means she's taken a big step. But she told me something that's made me more disappointed in you than I thought I could _ever_ be," he continued roughly, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Oh? And what might _that_ be?" Darcy retorted sarcastically.

"Did she tell you she was scared?"

"What?" Darcy replied in complete surprise, his eyes widening slightly as he looked up to his teacher.

"Did she tell you, on the night that you two got engaged, when you were kissing, that she was scared?" he repeated calmly.

"Yes."

"And did you stop kissing her?" he asked calmly. Darcy turned away to stare at the wainscotting.

"No," he admitted finally. Llewellyn cursed beneath his breath for a moment.

"I won't even_ begin_ to tell you how – no. I won't be able to trust myself after hearing your explanation," he snapped. "Do you have feelings for her?" he questioned.

"I love her," Darcy replied coolly, clenching his fists by his side. "And I would never, _ever_ hurt her. That night was a _mistake_, and I know it was!" he shouted in anger.

"I take it you're a bit more experienced in the physical side of a relationship than Eli?" he questioned calmly.

"You'd be correct in your assumption," Darcy admitted begrudgingly. "I wish I hadn't, not after meeting Elizabeth, but I did, and I can't change that, either," he snapped.

"She's a _child_, Darcy!"

"Howl, you're out of your place!" Darcy shouted back at him. "I know that Elizabeth is your favourite, and I know that she's come to you for help. But don't you _dare_ say what I think you're getting to!" he threatened angrily.

"I _know_ that I'm out of my place. But I might as well just say this, because chances are you're not going to give me another opportunity," Llewellyn snapped. "Don't hurt her. Don't push her. If you love her, _say_ so, but don't you _dare_ force her into _anything_ that she isn't ready for – and I don't just mean sex, Will," he finished, returning to his usual state of composure.

"Are you finished?" Darcy asked coolly.

"As long as you've understood, I believe so," he answered calmly.

"Good. Because you went _too far_," he snapped darkly. "I'm not going to hurt her! I'm going to be there for her whenever she needs me, and she knows that! She knows that no matter _what_ happens, I will always do whatever I can for her!" he continued with agitation. "And it's not your place to –"

"She doesn't deserve to be hu -"

"_She's not Toni_!" Darcy shouted finally. Llewellyn looked like he had been slapped in the face. "You can't make up for your mistakes with Elizabeth! You _know_ me, you've known me for years, and you know full well that I would never intentionally hurt her. I understand your concern, but I've been trying to gain her trust for a long time now, and I am _not_ going to lose her again!" he snapped. Llewellyn's face was devoid of any emotion.

"Go to class, Will," was all he said, turning towards his desk. Darcy was still shaking with anger, clenching his fist.

"I –"

"_Go_, Darcy!" Llewellyn cried. "I'll be there in a minute. Tell everyone to get started on the _Prince of Egypt_ medley," he finished, his voice cold and angered. Darcy said nothing more, complying to his teacher's wishes as he headed down the hall.

"You okay?" Eli questioned curiously as he sat down next to her.

"I'm fine," he snapped.

"You were in there a while. And you're kind of radiating anger," she pointed out calmly.

"It's nothing. Let's just… whatever," he muttered, pulling out his books in angry silence.

Down the hall, Howl Llewellyn let out an angry cry as he slammed his hand atop his desk. Perhaps Darcy had hit the nail on the head. Pulling his phone from his pocket quickly, he dialled quickly and waited for the other line to pick up. One ring, two…

"Howl?" Toni's wonderfully familiar voice questioned. "Aren't you teaching now?"

"I need you," he managed to get out, his voice choked. "I – I just need you," he stammered softly. "I know I said I couldn't do this again the other week, but I – I – God, please don't hate me for everything I've done to you," he begged her.

"Hey, it's alright, you know it is," she assured him gently over the phone. "You know I love you. You know I understand that you don't want to hurt me, or hurt yourself," she continued softly. "Listen, go get the other music teacher to step into your class and tell the kids what to do. Then come over to my place, I'll be there in a minute, you can't go through a bad day on your own," she murmured.

"I can't –"

"Yes you can, Howl. Cain is in today, right? He'll understand that you need to leave," she said calmly. "Are you cool to drive?"

"I'm fine."

"I'll see you soon then. I love you," she replied.

"I love you too," Howl murmured. "I'm sorry for –"

"Don't be sorry about anything. Just come over to my place and drive safe," she finished, before giving her goodbyes, and hanging up.

Howl took a deep, steadying breath. He knew he shouldn't be depending on Antoinette so much.

But dammit, admitting for once that he needed her gave him a hell of a lot more relief than any old pill could.

**A/N: Alright, so the owners of the site have decided to change everything around, and the new order is far from ideal. I have a poll on my author's page about whether or not you approve of these new changes, but I've sent some emails to the people who run the site asking if things could be restored to the natural order, maybe with some filters for all the novels. I won't be moving my story from the 'Emma' category for now; I have every intention of sticking this out until things go back to a better order. I'm hoping that it will be restored before I publish the sequel, because I really don't know what category it'll be in. Please be patient, and take not that stories don't seem to have been sorted at all, there was already a separate P&P category and all stories from the Jane Austen category were moved into Emma. So I'll continue to be a pain in the neck to the support staff of fanfiction dot net until things work out. **

**In other news, you know how I told you that the sequel will be called 'say it to me now'? Well, it's not. It's going to be 'The Hill', but it will still feature the themes from 'say it to me now' (the song, that is) of a lack of communication, but it will also have a lot about poor self-esteem and what that does to you and those around you. **

**Stay tuned, and please review :D**


	25. The Guilty Pleasure

"_And I'm on my knees in front of him, _

_But he doesn't seem to see me,_

_With all his troubles on his mind, _

_He's looking right through me,_

_And I'm letting myself down, by satisfying you,_

_And I wish that you could see I have my troubles too,"_

-Marketa Irglova, 'The Hill'

Antoinette Blanche Noëlle, French born, twenty years of age, was completely, totally, hopelessly in love with Howl Llewellyn, and had no trouble admitting that fact. She had been in love with him for over two years, and through good days and bad, she had always stuck by him, and always intended to do so.

However, she couldn't help but feel, occasionally, that perhaps she was unneeded. Unwanted. Unloved. She knew that Howl had a lot of issues to work through, a lot of problems, but she was always there for him when he needed a shoulder to cry on.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him softly, running her hand lightly over his bare chest, the sheets tangled around his waist.

"_Thoroughly_ well taken care of," he murmured as a response, shifting his eyes from the ceiling of her apartment to meet hers. A small smile played over his lips as he fingered a strand of her short white blonde hair between his long fingers.

"I live to please," she replied with a grin, her pale eyes twinkling cheekily. Howl gave a small chuckle, and pressed a soft kiss to her bare shoulder.

"That you do. You're definitely much more effective than meds," he commented.

"Are you still taking them?" she questioned. He nodded.

"But not every day. Only when I think it's… necessary," he murmured, turning his head away slightly, his eyes lowering.

"Howl…" Toni began disapprovingly, but he turned, and held his finger to her lips to silence her.

"I know my own body, and my own mind, Antoinette, better than anyone," he said calmly.

"Well… I don't know, I'm pretty familiar with your body," she teased cheekily. A smile slid over his lips, and he pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her frame. Her cheek pressed against his heart – she could feel the steady rhythm reverberate right through her body. It was calming, to know that he was there.

He wasn't there a lot of the time. She had barely seen him for months, she felt like he was merely his guilty pleasure, like a fine chocolate that you only ate occasionally, and resented for weeks after with the gaining of a few unwanted pounds. She no longer felt like a person around him.

"And stop calling me Antoinette. You know I hate it," she added, after they had lain for a little while in silence.

"Not going to happen," he responded smugly, pulling the sheet up to cover their bodies from the evening breeze. She shivered as his free hand began stroking lazy circles over her spine, her heart beat quickened slightly – and she could feel his race to catch up with hers.

"So… what happened today?" she asked finally, when he had grown quite silent once more.

"Oh, not much. I only shouted at William Darcy," he murmured bitterly. Toni's eyes widened slightly – no wonder he was upset.

"Oh goodie. Did you tell him that forcing a sixteen year old to marry you is a _bad_ idea?" she questioned hopefully.

"They've been getting closer over the past few days. Kissing, holding hands, they both look happy," he sighed, turning his amber eyes to the bedroom window, mindlessly watching a wounded sparrow flutter helplessly in the golden sky. "I caught them in the hall this afternoon. Darcy had pulled her into an alcove under the stairs, and was kissing her neck. I told Eli to go to class, and had a word with Darcy in my office," he murmured.

"That makes perfect sense to me," she rationalised softly, trying to meet his eyes with fruitless effort. He placed his hand on her shoulder, and slowly ran it down the length of her arm, pulling it gently rest on his chest. He always craved her touch when he was in a bad mood – she could never tell if it was something psychological or if he simply needed reassurance that he was normal, human, deserving to be touched like any other. She had no qualms about complying to that.

"I told him that I knew what had happened between them that night when Eli was told about the engagement," he stated slowly. Toni nodded, familiar with everything that Eli had told him. She knew that Howl cared about Eli Bennett, the cute little Australian she had met a few weeks ago at Emilia's eighteenth, and felt a need to protect her, particularly after what he had found out about 'that night'. She was personally furious with Darcy, even though she didn't know him that well, after hearing what had happened.

"And did he try to defend himself?" she asked carefully, knowing that there could be no excuse for such an action. Howl shook his head in silence before he continued.

"No. He said he made a mistake," he sighed. "I told him that I had promised to protect her, and that I wouldn't let him hurt her. He told me I was out of my place – and said that he loved her, and would never do anything to betray her trust," he murmured, his eyes once more growing distant as he turned away from her slightly.

"Is that what upset you?" she questioned softly, lithe fingers playing over the dip of his clavicle. He shook his head.

"He was angry. I kept on pushing him – and then he said that… that Eli isn't you. That I can't make up for my mistakes with you by protecting her," he admitted finally.

"He had no right to say that!" Toni cried instantly, sitting up immediately. The sheet pooled around her waist, and Howl turned his gaze from the window back to her. She blushed under the intensity of his amber eyes, but also under the realisation that maybe, just maybe, Darcy was right, and Howl's fear of Elizabeth being hurt was some sort of repressed desire to fix all the wrongs he had committed with her.

"I think it may be true, even just a little. I see a lot of you in Eli," he sighed, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her back towards him. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of him, wishing that what they had could be slightly more permanent than the occasional indulgence of a guilty pleasure. "And I just… I don't know. I couldn't look him in the eyes," he murmured finally, returning his hands to what felt like their natural place, gently sliding up and down the smooth skin of her back.

"He shouldn't have said that, Howl. You're helping Eli because you care about her, because you know that she needs someone to help her out," Toni assured him firmly, her voice muffled but still earnest.

"She told me that she trusts me She _trusts_ me, Antoinette. I just – I don't want to fail her, and I don't know if… he's almost nineteen. He's a very mature boy for his age, and Eli is strong in many ways, but she's also… just… so fragile," he murmured. "He admitted that he's not a virgin. She knows next to nothing about sex, I'm worried that…" he trailed off softly.

"And I know you'll do your best to stop that from happening. But you can't blame yourself," she whispered softly, shifting her position so she could meet his eyes. His beautiful amber eyes. She slowly ran both hands through his hair, and then back, tracing the curve of his jaw, running over his slightly chapped lips, memorising the face that she knew would be taken away from her soon.

"He said something else. About her parents. He mentioned that there was a problem… but she's never told me about them," he added thoughtfully, as if her actions were only a mere distraction for him that he could ignore with such ease.

"I can't imagine that they're the best parents in the world, considering that they're forcing their kid to get married at sixteen," Toni conceded, cursing her selfishness for causing her to feel disappointment that he wished to continue speaking.

"Maybe I should –"

"Howl, listen to me," she sighed finally, sitting on his lap, locking her pale eyes with his warm, burning ones. "I know you care about Eli, but you can't take on everything. She's strong enough to look after herself, you know," she said insistently. "And I know that if something goes wrong, you're going to torture yourself for not helping her, but the truth is, you _are_ helping her. You're doing the best you can do for her, and I know that you deserve nothing but praise for your efforts. But I won't let you fall apart if something happens that's out of your control," she finished calmly.

"I can't let her –"

"You'll do your best. I know," she said softly, leaning forwards, and pressing a kiss to his lips. He snaked his arms up her sides, and hugged her closely to him.

"I'm sorry – I'm always boring you with my troubles," he murmured quietly into her short white hair.

Toni wanted to hold back a sob. It just wasn't _fair_. She wanted to beat her fists against his chest and cry out 'don't be sorry for that – be sorry that I know you won't be here in the morning'. She was so sick of having her heart wrenched out every time he left, every time she woke up alone was just another reminder that she clearly couldn't give him what he needed.

She hated being nothing more than a guilty pleasure.

Guilty pleasures were only enjoyed for a little while before they were locked back up in the kitchen cupboard, away from temptation.

She hated that damn cupboard.

~ * ~

"So. Excited?" Eli questioned Darcy pleasantly, as they walked down the hall at the beginning of lunch to the auditorium.

"About what?" he questioned, snapping out of his daze.

"Singing, Sherlock," she replied, raising an eyebrow slightly at his glazed expression.

"Oh. This won't exactly be the first time I've sung in front of the people in there," he pointed out.

"I know. But this'll be the first time that _I've_ heard you sing," she reminded him. "I dunno. Llewellyn says you're good. Maybe he's being hyperbolic," she mused thoughtfully. Darcy felt a stab of anger and regret as she mentioned Llewellyn's name.

"Right. And that would be a first for Llewellyn, making exaggerated comments," he muttered bitterly.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing… I'm just…"

"You must think I'm an idiot," Eli announced suddenly, a tiny smirk playing on her lips.

"What? I don't think you're a –"

"Seriously, Will. You're perfectly chirpy before Llewellyn busted you for pashing me. You're in his office for a _long_ time, you come back looking ready to tear someone's head off, Llewellyn doesn't come to class, and you're jumpy and frigid for the next twenty-four hours," she stated factually. "Clearly something happened between you and Llewellyn, and I'm assuming with the bitterness and Llewellyn going home that you said or did something you shouldn't. But you would need to have been provoked, so Llewellyn probably said something he shouldn't have too… something about me?" she offered. Darcy said nothing. "Right. So it is about me. Well, considering what we had been doing just before he busted us… I'd say it was something to do with Llewellyn scolding you about your responsibilities as the older, more mature half of the relationship," she stated.

"How the _hell_ did you just do that?" he questioned incredulously. She grinned.

"I have been called 'gifted' more than once, Will," she reminded him. "So considering how much I've trusted with Llewellyn, he was probably concerned. He has a right to be. Maybe you were upset that I haven't spoken to _you_ about some of the things I've told Llewellyn," she pointed out rationally. "Llewellyn is the kind of guy to get protective; I know he's been worried. Maybe warned you off and you took badly to it," she suggested. Darcy said nothing, staring at the floor before him. "I think that was it. He would have been a bit out of his place – unless he had a reason to be concerned, and he probably told you that, remind me to ask in a minute – to say something like that, so I can imagine you, Mister Propriety, had a go at him for that," she rationalised. "And… yep. You're bitter. Did you say something you regret? Did you punch him? Did he punch you? No… actually, he's a bit of a hippie, I doubt it," she muttered thoughtfully.

"I attempted to put him in his place, and I ended up saying something that was even more out of line than what he said to me," Darcy growled finally.

"Ah. I thought it was something like that," Eli chirped as a response.

"Seriously… _how_ did you do all of that?" he questioned incredulously. She shrugged.

"Like I said, that label comes in handy," she replied. "But why isn't Llewellyn here today, and why did he go home early yesterday?" she questioned curiously.

"I'm not really sure. It wasn't exactly polite of me, but… I didn't think he'd take it so harshly," he murmured.

"Do you… do you think that Llewellyn is alright?" Eli asked softly, stopping in the hallway out of earshot from others. "It's just… I saw him taking some pills at rehearsals the other day. And every now and then he'll come into school looking like he's gone ten rounds with Hades. And he has a lot of days off," she murmured.

"He's been taking pills for as long as I've been here, and that behaviour isn't strange for him. We know each other out of school, but he's never mentioned anything about it," Darcy replied simply.

"I… I have an idea about it, but I'm not sure," she said softly, chewing her lip. "I don't know if I should say. It's probably not true… I _hope_ it's not true," she muttered.

"You think he's got some sort of illness or disease?" he questioned, as if the concept wasn't unfamiliar to him. She nodded.

"I was thinking cancer of some kind. It would explain a lot, why he misses some days of school and looks a wreck when he comes back, because he's getting treatment. And the pills…" she murmured. "And he has a little scar on the top of his forehead. It could be an operation scar," she added. "And why he's always really off and on with his girlfriend, because he doesn't want to put her through it with him…" she trailed off.

"That makes sense," Darcy said with realisation. "Oh great, now I feel just _wonderful_ for shouting at him," he murmured sarcastically.

"We don't know if it's true. It could just be a coincidence," Eli pointed out. "We can't say anything. If he wanted anyone to know, he'd just say," she said, trying to keep her voice level. "God… I don't want him to die," she whispered suddenly. "I mean, he's a _really_ good teacher. And these arrangements we're doing for all the medleys? He's a musical _genius_. He's the best teacher I've ever had, and I – I really _trust_ him, you know? I feel like I can talk to him about anything," she murmured. "Sometimes it feels like he's more of a Dad to me than Dorr is. He _can't_ die, it's not fair," she insisted to herself, growing upset at the very thought.

"We don't know anything for certain. Don't get yourself worked up, he's probably fine. We're probably overreacting," he tried to convince her, but the slight fear was nibbling away at him too. He'd known Howl since he was fourteen, and came to the school. Since then he had proved to be a good friend and wonderful teacher. He had no desire for him to die.

"Y – you're right. Come on then, we had better get to rehearsals," Eli sighed, running a hand through her dark curls. "Oh, umm… apologise to him, okay?" she requested quietly, turning back to him for a moment. "It's just… he's more than a teacher to me, and I don't want… yeah. If you had an argument about me, then I want you to apologise," she continued. Darcy nodded.

"I can do that," he murmured, before taking her hand, and walking through to the auditorium.

~ * ~

"Are you sure you didn't need to be anywhere today?" Howl questioned Toni softly, running his large hands over one of the many giant canvases strewing her studio, the glorious texture of the thick oil paint soothing his distressed mind.

"One of the brilliant things about University is that they don't count heads in all their classes," she laughed in reply, picking up empty mugs and plates scattered around the room.

"Do you do much painting these days?" he enquired curiously.

"Not as much as I used to. I spend a lot of time on photoshop," she answered. "I can do almost anything on it, it's far more amusing. I can make something up for fun in a few minutes," she informed him with a simple shrug.

"How are things at the school then?"

"Meh. Not that interesting, but in a few months I'll have a pretty little piece of paper to make up for it," she replied with a small grin, taking all of the cutlery and plates she had discovered into the kitchen, and putting them in the sink, before returning to her studio.

"You haven't painted over it," he commented when she approached, looking up at a rather large canvas, gloriously strewn with swirls and splashes of crimson, burgundy, black and deep gold.

"And why would I? It looks great, and has some pretty good memories attached to it," she replied, looking up at the familiar work.

"So you remember it fondly then?" he questioned, with a tiny little grin.

"Other than getting paint in places where I never intended on getting paint, I'd say it was a pretty good afternoon," she replied cheekily, wrapping his arms around his bare waist from behind, playing mindlessly with the ties of his loose hanging lounge pants.

"And night. And as I recall, morning," he corrected, entwining his hands in hers, pulling himself closer to her chest. "Can't do _that_ on top of a computer, now can we," he murmured teasingly.

"We should skip work and school everyday," she sighed softly.

"Sorry I've kept you cooped up inside. It's just… I didn't know if I was going to be able to get out of bed this morning," he apologised quietly, the familiar tone of self-loathing returning to his voice.

"Howl, you know that I'm here for you. We're going to get through this together, and when it's all over, and you're all better, we can just look back on days like these and smile, because we had each other to get through them," she whispered, trying to hide her excitement – he had stayed the night. He was there when she woke up. He was _there_.

"What if I don't _get_ better?" he questioned suddenly, turning around to meet her eyes. "Antoinette, you _know_ that there's no cure. You _know_ that treatment can only do so much, and I can't keep taking pills everyday just so I can get out of bed," he stated honestly, his amber eyes sparkling, but not with joy.

"Hey. You _know_ that when we're together, you have _so_ many more good days, and on the bad days, I'm here for you," she replied, raising her hand up to the side of his face.

"I can't live like this forever, Toni, I can't –"

"Yes you _can_, Howl, and you _will_," she insisted firmly, her own eyes filling with tears. "Because you can_not_ just leave me here by myself. I don't care if it's selfish – I'm holding onto you. I don't have much else on this bloody planet, and I am _not_ letting you leave me too," she continued, trying to fight back the cries rising in her throat.

"I don't want to hurt you," he confessed. "I – you mean more to me than anything else in this world, but –"

"Howl, you're not terminal. And you have good days. You have _really_ good days. You have days when you're so happy you practically glow, when you talk at a hundred miles an hour, when we make love so many times that I can't stand upright, and those days can go on for a week or more, but you always seem to ignore that! You ignore how happy you are," she murmured, stroking his face gently, tears running down her cheeks and over her softly smiling lips.

"And I have days that could kill me," he reminded her bitterly.

"Howl, _I love you_, every little bit of you, every little piece, I even love that monster in your head that's making you sick because it's _you_!" she whispered softly. "And I know that there's no cure. But people recover all the time, people get better and move on with their lives, and I just _know_ that you're going to be okay," she added.

"How did I deserve you? Was I the saviour of all man-kind in another life?" he questioned, quite earnestly, with obvious agitation at his lack of understanding.

"I dunno. Maybe you ran over a puppy," she offered cheekily, her eyes sparkling.

"Antoinette, you… you keep on amazing me. To tell you that I love you just… doesn't come close enough to the truth to do you justice," he murmured. "Thank you," he whispered into her hair, as he pulled her into his arms tightly.

"For what? I'm not exactly complaining about this relationship," she pointed out, her voice lost somewhere in the crook of his neck.

"For being alive, I guess. For putting up with all my crap. For – not leaving me," he replied, ever so softly.

"Well, right back at you, professor," she replied, pressing a small kiss to the side of his neck.

It was going to be a good day... she was out of the cupboard for today.

~ * ~

"Now Eli, I want you to pretend you're blowing out the candles in your dressing room, before moving to the door. The backing track will play just before you reach it, and Darcy will sing his lines, alright?" Professor Arcola informed Eli from his chair in the audience. He was the junior music teacher in the school, and whilst she had never met him before, she was beginning to find him quite irritating.

"Yes, sir," she replied mindlessly, as if she hadn't gone through the actions of that scene five times that lunch already.

"Action!" he cried obnoxiously into his loudspeaker. Eli winced with the volume of his voice, but went about her actions regardless.

"_Insolent boy, this slave to fashion,_

_Basking in your glory_

_Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor,_

_Sharing in my triumph_,"

Eli shivered with the sound of Darcy's voice. It was the second time she had heard it, and it still sent tremors down her spine. There wasn't really a way to explain it. He was just so _good_! He had a voice that stretched from incredible lows to ridiculous highs, it could be strong and powerful or soft and gentle, but it was _always_ so amazing! She couldn't believe that she had known him for six months had had never heard him sing!

"_Angel I heard you speak,_

_I listen,_

_Angel my soul was weak,_

_Forgive me,_

_Stay by my side,_

_Guide me_!" she sung in return, eager to hear his voice once more.

"_Flattering child, you shall know me,_

_See why in darkness I hide,_

_Look at your face in the mirror,_

_I am there inside!_" was his reply.

Eli turned to the other side of the room, where Darcy stood, leaning against the false wall, a small grin playing on his lips.

"_Angel of music, _

_Guide and guardian,_

_Grant to me your glory!_

_Angel of music,_

_Hide no longer,_

_Come to me strange angel!"_

"_I am your angel of music…_

_Come to me angel of music…_"

His smile didn't fade, even as Gershom took his cue from outside the 'dressing room' to shout his line. He continued to sing, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

"_I am your angel of music…_

_Come to me angel of music…_"

Eli shivered. He was just so ridiculously amazing. His voice held a very hypnotising quality to it, just as the Phantom was supposed to possess. She understood why the role went to him without question – _no one_ embodied the Phantom more than Darcy. His voice had the power to draw her to him, it was entrancing. All-consuming. And incredibly addictive.

"Very good you two! Your voices sound perfect together!" Arcola shouted obnoxiously into the loudspeaker.

Eli couldn't help but agree. It was incredible how well their voices suited each other. But, she realised, he had been training her for months to sing with him. She had no idea until he opened his mouth – but he had been pushing her so that she could match him note for note, so she could equal his power or his gentleness, so her voice could wrap around his or dance over it, so they could equal, compliment or contrast one another. She wanted to feel offended at his assumption that in order to be great, she needed to sing like him, but she couldn't find it in her.

"I quite agree," Darcy murmured, stepping towards her.

"You've been training me for this," she replied, pretending to look offended. He smirked, and nodded.

"Yes. You're the perfect embodiment of Christine. I knew it was the best way to secure you the role," he informed her. She rolled her eyes at his assumption, but she wasn't angry. Not when he had given her a crystal voice as a token of her hard work in their lessons.

"Your voice is… amazing," she found herself whispering incredulously. "I've never heard anything like it. It's brilliant," she murmured.

"My mother was a good teacher. My voice is just a product of training and instruction, you could sing wonderfully before I became your 'angel of music'. That's why we aren't stopping our lessons, you aren't as good as you can be yet," he replied. Eli cocked an eyebrow.

"You have _more_ to teach me?" she questioned, to which he nodded.

"Much more. I think we could stretch your vocal chords another four tones at least, I won't be satisfied till only dogs can hear you," he answered. "Then we'll get started on lower registers. I'm fully anticipating a four octave range from you," he added.

"_No one_ can sing four octaves, Darcy," she replied with a roll of her eyes. His twinkled in response. "But you're not going to be satisfied till you've tried, will you," she added, easily assessing his expression. He nodded, a tiny grin playing on his lips.

"This is fun. Your voice is like play-doh for me," he informed her cheerfully.

"You must have been a pretty fucked up kid."

"I would make claims to such," he conceded with a small grin. "I was going to tell you what I was crafting your voice into. But then I just… well, the look on your face was pretty good," he added cheekily. "You can still sing with others. But your voice will always sound best with mine," he informed her pleasantly.

"That's incredibly assuming of you," she pointed out. He shrugged.

"Well, Elizabeth, I have to confess that I don't really care," he said simply, another tiny grin playing on his lips. Eli rolled her eyes.

She didn't really, either.

**A/N: I had a really horrible day at school today, so to distract myself up I decided to upload early. Sorry for all those George and Emilia fans who haven't seen much going on for a while, there will be a little bit in a few chapters time, but most of it will really be in the sequel, which I've now started writing. Hopefully I will be able to post right after finishing this, but I'm not sure. In a few weeks I'll be starting my final year at school, so… I may be taking a year off fanfiction. I'd rather post '**_**The Hill**_**' before I take time off, and I'll still be writing, and I might still be posting too, but it won't be every second day, more like once a week, if I'm lucky. I'm sorry, but there's no other way around it, I really need to do well next year or I can't get into Sydney Uni, and my education is more important to me than fanfiction. **

**Sorry, I'm just in a bad mood today. I love writing, but taking a year off could be the best thing for my own interests. I'll decide soon, so please be patient ^__^**


	26. Adjustment

"_A triangle, trying to squeeze through a circle,_

_He tried to cut me so I'd fit,_"

-Missy Higgins, 'Scar'

Over the next few weeks, the school was abuzz with preparations for the musical. After Eli's music class had performed a trial of their pieces from well-known musicals at a school concert, the entire student body population was all dying to hear more of Eli's so called 'angelic' voice.

She didn't know how it had happened. It was seemingly overnight that she turned into the most popular girl in the entire school. No longer did people bitch about her in the hallways, hacking on everything from her pale skin to her so called 'gifts', now they were actually _following_ her around, copying how she did her hair and accessories, it was if she were suddenly their… idol.

"Let's trade faces," Eli suggested suddenly to Emilia, as she became increasingly aware of a group of gawping first years who had found their way into the senior lounge.

"Are you kidding? With my pores? Babe, keep what you've got," she advised, turning back to her laptop with her usual keen expression. "You don't have rehearsals this afternoon, do you?" she questioned curiously. Eli shook her head.

The musical had taken up a lot of her existence recently. She was spending all her free time practising her pieces and lines, buried in her room, away from her interfering family.

Things had taken a pretty horrid turn with Dorr and Francie. Eli hardly spoke to her mother, because she knew the conversations would consist of the same three sentences:

"So when are you going to tie the knot with the stud-muffin we shackled you to, eh Eli?" her mother would question, with much winking and nudging.

"Bite me, bitch-face, you spawn of Satan you."

"_Oh, my poor nerves_!"

But the somewhat strained relationship she had with her mother was like Lorelai and Rory Gilmore in comparison to the coldness between she and Dorr. She had quite literally not said a single word to him since 'that night' at her Headmistress' estate. Despite her improving relationship with Darcy, she knew she would never be able to forgive him for putting her in such a situation. She actually found it somewhat… a relief, to no longer be suffering from Dorr's demands. She knew she had disappointed him, and she couldn't imagine a worse punishment than that knowledge itself, but she knew that she would never be able to become a doctor. Her passion was music, and always would be. She had lost a great deal of respect for Dorr when he said she had wasted her gift on her music.

"Good. Come over to my place then, and I can start making notes about the adjustments I need to make on your costumes," Emilia decided. "I'm almost finished the first gown, the one in the aria, and I'm using that as a base for the others you wear. And I want to go all out in the masquerade ball, seriously, it's going to be my best creation yet," she promised.

"Christine never really _had_ a costume at the masquerade ball," she pointed out. "Not like the Phantom. I mean, _Red Death _is a classic," she added thoughtfully.

"I've designed the costumes for everyone but Christine. I have _no_ idea what she should be. I'm making Raoul a gypsy though, like the evil gypsies that imprisoned the Phantom when he was a child, because I loved the symbology of it," she giggled.

"That's clever. Are we weird because we both hate the good guy, and want Christine to end up with the deformed murderer?" Eli questioned curiously.

"Not at all. I always go for the underdog," Emilia assured her.

"You know, you could do Christine as an angel. You know, for the symbolism of it all. She's the Phantom's angel, and he's hers," she pointed out, Emilia instantly slapping her forehead loudly.

"Damn! I should have thought of that!" she exclaimed. "It's perfect. But I don't want it too clichéd – I'll have to get started now. This is great – you look really nice in white anyway," she pointed out. Eli rolled her dark eyes in reply.

"Well, I think I look nice in anything," she said sarcastically.

"Ha!" came a bitter, cold laugh from across the room.

"I love you too, Clare!" Eli called mindlessly, inspecting her nails with fake interest.

To say that she and Clare weren't getting along would be the understatement of all understatements…

Clare absolutely _loathed _Eli. And she went out of her way every day to ensure that Eli remembered that, with everything from the evil eye to holding her foot out whenever she passed by in the hope that she would trip. Eli found it somewhat amusing, but extremely irritating, all the same. Unfortunately, she couldn't exactly _avoid_ Clare, she seemed to be everywhere. At rehearsals, in music class, in the hallways, even at her _house,_ due to Jay's continued friendship with her.

Jay was a pretty concerning matter. Her mood hadn't increased, she was still miserable, and didn't even resist when Francie attempted to set her up with boys. Since she and Char 'broke up' the focus had really been taken off Eli, something for which she was grateful for, but at the price of Jay's happiness…

"Still not getting along with her then?"

"_That_ is the dumbest question known to man," Eli retorted, rolling her eyes teasingly. "We're _never_ going to get along. I think we all accepted that very early on in the game," she added.

"I have a similar relationship with her," Emilia replied, pulling forth a sketch pad, and beginning what looked like a costume design. "So you'll come this afternoon?"

"Of course, sounds far more enjoyable than the awkward hour at my house," Eli answered with a grin.

"So how are things with you and Mister Lover-Boy then?" Emilia asked curiously. Eli rolled her eyes.

"_Will_ and I are okay, I guess," she replied with a shrug. "I don't know. We talk a lot, kiss a lot, work on my singing a lot, but… I'm not sure. I've never had a boyfriend or a fiancée before. I don't know how it's supposed to be," she confessed.

"Do you mean you think there's something missing?" Emilia inquired, arching an eyebrow curiously.

"Well we've never resolved any of our differences. We're kind of… only together because it's easier than getting all that slack from my parents and his aunt," she explained. "We don't even like each other. We enjoy our time together, I guess, but… I dunno, it's almost as if we're just tolerating each other for the sake of it, because we know this engagement isn't going anywhere," she added.

"So you're sure it's not going anywhere?"

"Well, of course it isn't," Eli answered, as if it were the clearest thing on earth. "I mean, we're still kids, there's no way in hell we're getting _married_. After the musical I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but I'll probably just go back to Australia," she explained with a shrug.

"What, and leave me on my lonesome?" Emilia teased, throwing her pink lips out in a pout.

"Well then you'll just have to come with me," Eli rationalised simply, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Eli actually _did_ wish that she could take Emilia with her to Australia. She knew she was going to miss her terribly, in the short amount of time they had known each other she felt just as close with them, if not closer, than many of her friends from Australia. She felt like she had some pretty good friends in England, such as George and even Llewellyn. Her first impressions of Charlotte couldn't have been further off the mark – after quitting school she also quit associating with Emilia or Eli, preferring instead to spend her days with her mother, learning how to run a household.

"Seriously. I _love_ your room, can I keep it?" Eli sighed later that afternoon, falling back on Emilia's huge four poster bed in her father's home. She had moved out of George's place about a month before, and whilst she admitted she missed his presence, they were still just as close.

"Sure, I'll just sleep in the hall," Emilia replied, rolling her eyes as she pinned a length of silvery chiffon to a skirt draped around a large mannequin. Emilia was very much the artistic type when it came to clothing, her room filled with pieces of material, mannequins, a sewing machine and overlocker, not to mention sketchbooks filled with incredible designs. "I think this one is nearly finished. What do you think?" she questioned.

Eli sat up off the extremely comfortable bed, and gazed over at the dress that Emilia had spent so long creating. It was perfect, like something out of a fairytale, with a full skirt, a jewelled bodice, and little sleaves that rested off the shoulder. It was absolutely perfect, a beautiful creation of pale blue and silver glory.

"It's incredible! You've outdone yourself – it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!" she exclaimed incredulously. Emilia grinned proudly. "Seriously, you could put this in a shop window in Oxford street and no one would ever know you made it at home in your bedroom. It's _gorgeous_," she said almost breathlessly.

"I really do like it. I went really all out, because the school paid for all of the material, and because it's being made for your specifications you get to keep it," she added.

"You should keep it, we're the same size anyway, and you spent all this time on it," Eli replied firmly. "Seriously Em, it's perfect. You're incredible – can I see some of your other designs for the musical?" she questioned.

"Oh, sure, they're all in this," she replied, tossing her friend a large sketchbook. Sitting atop the bed with her legs crossed, Eli opened to the first page.

It was all inspiration from the movie and photos of the musical, with a few pictures she had cut out from magazines or printed off the net, a few little notes about what she liked scribbled on the sides.

The first set of sketches were for the fictitious musical in the first act, '_Hannibal_', and included the gorgeous silver and blue dress Christine would wear in the aria. The designs were all fantastic, most of them variations of past costumes that had been made in the musicals before. Next came the night gown and robe that Christine wore when venturing down beneath the Opera house with the Phantom, who wore a very nice black domino suit with vest and cravat.

"You draw so well," Eli commented incredulously, as Emilia started to sew pieces of material to the dress so she could remove the pins.

"I got bored of landscape and animals very quickly. I really only have the patience for drawing clothing and people," she confessed.

"Em, these designs are _amazing_. Everything is going to look so incredible," she assured her firmly. A small smile passed over Emilia's lips.

"You know, I think I'd like to do this after I've finished school. I mean, I love fashion – despite the fact that it's incredibly vain – and I love to make clothing, I could really see myself doing this for the rest of my life," she commented. "Well, actually, I'd much rather do charity work. I like helping people, and fashion is fun, but not really helpful," she added thoughtfully.

"Do what you have a passion for, and try to help people as you go along," Eli advised, turning another page in the sketchbook.

"You're right, I suppose. George never believes me when I say I want to help people. He thinks I'm just trying to get people to like me," she laughed.

"Well laugh right back at him missy, he doesn't know what he's talking about," Eli retorted firmly, closing the sketchbook, and glancing up to her distracted friend.

Had anyone else said it, Eli would have to agree with George that declaring you wished to devote your life to helping others was a bit pretentious, and was usually a cry for attention. But there were some people, like Emilia, that she _knew_ were genuine about their desire to help. She didn't doubt one bit that Emilia would save the world if she could.

~ * ~

"Jay, I don't know _how_ you've survived all these years with that sister of yours," Clare sighed pitifully, sitting back on the chaise lounge in her bedroom, softly stroking Snowflake, her fluffy little Maltese Terrier, who sat on her lap with an expression of extreme boredom.

"Oh, Eli is very nice, really," Jay assured her friend with her usual polite (albeit flickering) smile, hazarding a glance to the hallway through the open door. She had been watching it for hours, hoping Char might walk past, see her, and stop in to say hello…

But she knew it wouldn't happen. He'd said barely a word to her for months.

"You're too kind to her. She's your sister, you're blind to her faults," she informed her with slight curtness. "No, it's really very unfair for you. And why should _she_ be getting so much attention? She's the youngest. The youngest never do anything good," she added.

"Well she's a very talented musician, and she's very clever," Jay pointed out slowly.

"Hmm. She's alright, I suppose," Clare snapped moodily. "So how are things going with her and Darcy? Had he gotten tired of her yet?" she questioned sharply.

"Oh, no, I think he really likes her. He never comes around to our place though, so I only really see them together at school," Jay replied. Clare smirked. Of _course_ he never went around to the Bennett's house, the parents and twin girls were complete and total idiots. They couldn't stop embarrassing themselves if they were buried six feet in the ground.

"She must think herself awful lucky, to land a fiancée at that age, and with such obvious flaws," she commented. Jay frowned slightly.

"Well they aren't _officially_ engaged, and I don't really think she _does_ consider herself lucky… come to think of it, she never really says very nice things about Darcy," Jay replied. "She doesn't really like him that much, but I think it's only a matter of time, she's just not used to it yet," she rationalised.

"She doesn't _like_ him? How could she not like him?" Clare questioned incredulously, but Jay only shrugged.

"I don't know. She thinks he's rude, I guess. Whenever Mum asks about him at dinner she'll make it perfectly clear that she's not very happy with him," she explained.

"But – but they're always traipsing around the place at school, kissing and holding hands, and why _wouldn't_ she like someone like Darcy?" she asked in shock.

"She doesn't talk about it much, but it seems that… well, it's kind of like they're both using each other," she murmured. "Eli doesn't like him, but I think she's going along with it to get Dad to pay attention to her again, and Darcy only seems to like her because of her gifts, really, and the fact that he needs to marry someone to claim his inheritance," she explained. "Eli doesn't plan on getting officially engaged to him. She said that she wants to leave England after the musical is done," she added thoughtfully.

"See, Jay? _This_ is why I pity you for having to survive with such a vindictive sister," Clare said supportively.

"Vindictive? I don't know, do you really think so? I mean, I don't really understand why she's with him, but I don't think she's _trying_ to be mean," she retorted. "I mean, _yes_, I think Darcy likes her, but for very selfish reasons. Neither of them are being honest," she pointed out.

"Darcy is infatuated, and she's toying with him to get attention. She _loves_ attention, Jay. Gifted children can't get enough," Clare explained to her friend simply. A rather confused expression passed over Jay's face.

"But, how did you know she was –"

"Oh please. _Everyone_ knows," Clare waved her off. "People like her don't belong in the same society as people like _you_ or _I_, they belong in hospitals or brain farms. From the beginning of time, people who were… _different_ were separated from the normal people, and things were fine," she declared. "In the animal kingdom, those who were incapable of functioning in their society would be killed at birth. I'm not saying she's a bad _person_, but she shouldn't be going to the same school as normal people, she shouldn't be in a relationship with a normal person, do you understand?" she questioned simperingly.

"But… I thought – I mean, she's tiring, but she _is_ normal," Jay objected, her eyes welling with fear. Clare hid back a cruel smirk. She knew she had won.

"No, Jay. She isn't. She's 'gifted' remember?" she crooned. "She's unstable. There are places for people like her. Hasn't she only caused you and your family pain?" she questioned softly.

"Well, I mean, we _did_ move to England because –"

"Don't you think it's funny, Jay, that just before Eliza and Darcy decide to move their relationship to the next level, Char goes back with his old girlfriend, Darcy's sister?" Clare questioned suddenly. Jay's eyes widened. "Don't you think… well, I know that Darcy has a lot of pull over Char, and of course, over his sister. You two were getting close, and Eliza didn't approve, because it would take the spotlight off her… and even _after_ she tells Darcy to talk to Char and his sister, it's just not enough. She has to get engaged, or else no one will care about her…" she trailed off.

Jay chewed her lip softly.

It _did_ make sense, even if just a little… and after all, what was that saying? No smoke without fire?

"You know Clare, you've given me a lot to think about," Jay said thoughtfully.

"Don't feel bad for not seeing it. She's one of _those_ – you can't trust them. Their all sneaky, they're the ones that end up starting things like communism and World War Two," Clare rationalised. "She's probably a master manipulator, and, well, you're so kind and sweet… it's all in the wiring," she explained, tapping her head. "She's different, Jay. _Too_ different. Too different to fit in our world," she added softly, trying to sound as compassionate as possible.

"I think… Clare, you might just be right," Jay practically whispered, her voice quiet and weak.

It didn't sound like Eli.

But it did make sense.

~ * ~

"Are you okay?" Darcy questioned curiously, glancing over to Eli as she stared off into empty space.

"What?" she muttered, snapping out of her trance. Darcy arched an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Uh… are you alright? You look a little far off. Have you eaten today?" he asked cautiously.

"Oh! No, I'm fine, just thinking," she replied, pulling a small little smile onto her lips, but it was rather forced.

"Well we've only got a month before we perform this, you should probably concentrate," he pointed out, gesturing to the stage, where tens of people rushed around with props, costumes and scripts. "What were you thinking about then?" he questioned, when she didn't reply.

"It's nothing really. Just my sister," she murmured simply, shifting in the slightly uncomfortable auditorium chair, doodling little treble clefs all over her script mindlessly.

"Which one? You _do_ have a few," he pointed out.

"Jay. She's been acting… a little weirdly recently," she attempted to explain. "She's avoiding me a lot. We haven't really been talking that much these days, but… now it's almost never. And she looks at me strangely, as if she's… I dunno, as if I suddenly grew a second head or something," she added, her voice revealing her confusion.

"I don't think I can help you much there. I've only ever had a little sister – I think it's a little different," he informed her apologetically. Eli sighed, and turned her gaze up to the stage.

"So next week we do the graveyard scene," she reminded him, her tone hinting at the significance of that point in the play.

"I know, but you know '_Wishing you were somehow here again_' backwards. One rehearsal and you'll be fine," he assured her. "And _'Wandering Child_' is just a variation of '_Angel of Music_', you don't need to worry," he added.

"I meant the fight scene between you and Gershom," she clarified.

"I'll be fine. I don't know about Gershom, but I'll certainly survive," he replied simply.

"_William_."

"How do you feel about some of the changes Llewellyn's made? I preferred the musical to the movie, but I guess it flows better this way," he mused thoughtfully.

"Will, seriously. Don't kill him," she said warningly. "I don't know why you don't like him, but you can't just murder the guy," she reminded him. Darcy rolled his eyes.

"I won't murder him. I'll just make the fight scene very realistic," he assured her. Eli's frown grew.

"William, you're much stronger than Gershom, you could seriously hurt him," she said sternly. Darcy rolled his eyes.

"Gershom was strong enough to strike you, in case you no longer recall. I've told you several times – I have my reasons for disliking him, and the constant replay of you stumbling forwards, holding your bleeding head, isn't exactly going to recommend him to me," he muttered with slight anger.

"You've never told me why you don't like him," she reminded him casually, hoping that he might give her a hint.

"There are quite a few things I haven't told you," was his only reply. Eli raised a brow in curiosity.

"Are you really a girl, and have just been wearing a corset or something all this time?" she inquired teasingly.

"I'm most certainly a man, I'll have you now," he retorted, a slight brush rising to Eli's cheeks. "I'm not exactly the hold hands in a circle and talk about your feelings kind of guy. I'll admit to that," he added, after a brief pause.

"Well neither am I, but I make an effort," she objected.

"Just… forget it. You have to accept that Gershom and I don't like each other, and it's always going to be that way," he said firmly. Resisting the urge to pout, Eli sunk back into the chair. "Listen, I _wish_ I could tell you, but I can't. You can ask me almost anything else and I'll tell you the truth, but not _that_," he said with slight exasperation, sensing her disappointment.

"Alright… what's your full name?" she questioned, sensing an opportunity.

"William James Leopold Darcy the Fifth."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," she exclaimed, her eyes widening. He shook his head.

"It's a common practise in England to name the first born son after the father," he replied with a shrug.

"Did your parents call you Junior?" she questioned, trying to hide her amusement. He blinked.

"No… they called me William."

"Well what did they call your Dad?"

"William."

"Didn't that get a bit confusing?" she asked in surprise. He looked thoughtful for a moment.

"No… not really. I can imagine it would have occasionally, but it was usually quite clear who was being spoken about," he informed her simply. "We didn't see family that much. We lived up North, and we hardly saw my Aunts and Uncles. Both grandparents died before I was born, so we never really ran into any awkward situations with names," he explained briefly.

"But what about your Mum?"

"She called both of us William. It might sound confusing, but it really wasn't, Elizabeth," he tried to assure her. She still frowned slightly.

"Well then… tell me about 'up North'," she requested, for lack of a better topic.

"Well… I grew up in a place called Derbyshire," he began slowly.

"Where's that?" she questioned.

"Well… where have you been in England?"

"Rosings Park. Uhh… a bit of London. And Oxford," she recited. Darcy frowned.

"I'm going to have to take you on a bit of a tour of the country then. Derbyshire is North of London, about three and a half miles north-east of Bakewell," he explained.

"Alright, first of all, _please_ don't use 'miles', my brain still hasn't adjusted to that yet, and I don't know where 'Bakewell' is either," she replied.

"Well, it's North. We lived in Pemberley House, just my parents, my sister, the staff and I," he continued.

"'The staff'?"

"Butlers, maids, valets, that sort of thing," he explained briefly. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"You _needed_ all of those? Did they wipe your ass too?" she questioned incredulously, to which she received an annoyed glare.

"Does everyone in Australia talk like you?" he questioned. She shook her head.

"I learnt most of this from the English, but you lot can say _anything_ and make it sound like poetry," she replied with a slight sigh.

"Your accent is nice. Like a muted English. And yes, we did need them, Pemberley House is quite large. It takes a lot of people to keep it running," he answered finally.

"So what did the staff call you?" she inquired then.

"Master William, and my father was Mister Darcy. Elizabeth, it's not unusual," he tried to emphasise. "And it's an expected tradition in my family. I'll probably call my first-born son William too," he rationalised.

Eli tensed immediately.

He couldn't mean… no. It was impossible. He _couldn't_ be suggesting that she… and he… no.

"Interesting that you're… thinking that far ahead," she found herself murmuring, but it sounded more like a pained squeal.

"Well I have to, don't I? Pemberley House should only go to a Darcy. I've got to make sure that the line goes on," he explained simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Listen, it's just… what's expected. And when – _if_ we get married, we'll have to have at least one kid," he rationalised.

"I don't like children."

"Well I never said that _I_ did either," Darcy retorted. Eli raised a brow, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, I mean… _maybe_ it doesn't sound so bad. One or two would be nice," he murmured quietly. Eli crossed her arms, and leant back in her chair. "I always kind of figured… four," he added warily, after a short pause.

"_Four_? Are you fucking kidding me?" Eli exclaimed, a little too loudly. Heads turned in their direction.

"Language, Eli," Llewellyn called with slight disapproval, looking up from his papers.

"I'm within my rights. _He_ wants four kids," she hissed angrily, jabbing her thumb in Darcy's direction as everyone turned away.

"That's right, tell _everyone_," Darcy muttered sarcastically. "I'm just saying that it makes sense, you know? Two boys and two girls, so they all have at least one sister and one brother," he rationalised. "And anyway, you're a girl. You're _supposed_ to want to have lots of children, aren't you?" he added, exasperated at Eli's expression of extreme distaste.

"Darcy, _duck_," Llewellyn advised the moment the words left Darcy's mouth.

"Wha – _ouch_!" he cried suddenly, as the palm of Eli's hand collided with the side of his head.

"You're lucky I didn't kick you in the balls, and make sure you can't have two boys and two girls with this perfect Stepford wife you keep imagining," she snapped. Llewellyn tried to hide a snigger as Darcy looked offended and wounded. "Seriously, Darcy, you want kids? Go find a stork," she advised pointedly as Darcy rubbed his wounded head.

"That actually hurt," he muttered. "Listen, I wasn't implying… forget it," he trailed off hesitatingly.

"Well why four?" she questioned, confident that she hadn't injured him. Darcy wouldn't be harmed by a sixteen year old that he wanted to use only as a pawn in his giant game of society.

"I never had a brother. And I would have liked another sister," he shrugged simply.

"Well I've never had a brother either," she replied with a shrug. "My parents wanted me to be a boy though, if that helps. I was going to be 'Elijah'," she added, trying to remain cheerful.

"That… doesn't really help. I've never had any desire to kiss a boy, biblical name or not," he replied, shifting somewhat uncomfortably.

"No, that's Richard," she replied, her dark eyes twinkling cheerfully. Darcy gave a slight snigger.

"I think he only does it to freak me out. I'm not homophobic, but he's just so open about it around me, it's kind of scary," he informed her.

"I thought he was funny. Oh, could you please call him and say that if he doesn't return my _Augie March _shirt I'll make a necklace of his entrails and wear it to his funeral?" she requested, her voice misleadingly pleasant for such a horrible thought. Darcy winced.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side," he murmured, shifting slightly.

"You'll survive," she assured him simply, before turning her gaze up to the stage in silence.

**A/N: Thank you all for your kind support, but I have decided, I will be taking a break of several months. I might be able to continue writing through till February – but that's a maybe. I will really try to finish writing 'The Hill' before then, but if I haven't then I'm sorry, it probably won't be published for a while. I'm currently writing two stories at the moment, 'The Hill' and 'L'Ange Noir' (which is Phantom of the Opera) and I would **_**love**_** to have them finished by the time I go into full-on mode for my HSC, but I can't guarantee that. I should be able to do some writing in the Christmas holidays, but like I said, no guarantees. Your support has been phenomenal over the past year for 'Sometimes you can't make it on your own', 'Sweet Lolita' and now 'Love and other labels', and I promise I will do my best – but my education is really important to me, and fanfiction is a huge distraction. **

**So, sorry. But I won't be leaving you for a while yet :D I'll try and pump out 'The Hill' before I absolutely **_**have**_** to go, but no promises.**

**PS: My position remains the same with the Jane Austen category nonsense – I'm not moving my story for the time being, I will continue boycotting this split novel decision until something changes.**


	27. Of Love and Confessions

"_I am nothing now, and it's been so long,_

_Since I've heard the sound – the sound of my only hope,_

_This time I will be listening…_

_My heart, it beats, beats for only you_

_My heart is your's_,"

-Paramore, 'My Heart'

Eli bit her lip instead of letting out a sob. She wiped her teary cheeks with the sleave of her jumper, trying to just… block it out. Block everything. Block out the last twenty-four hours completely.

"It was just a little fight, Eli," Llewellyn said softly, trying to meet her eyes. She shook her head. She knew, it _wasn't_ a little fight. "He loves you. It was just… hard for him to see you with him. It was hard for him to see you near to him, talking to him," he explained.

Eli was practically trembling as she shook her head. She had turned into a waif, a weak little child.

"D – don't _justify_ it! Don't you dare justify what he did!" she managed to get out in angered response. "I felt like an idiot! I felt like a _slut_! He made it perfectly clear that he doesn't give a shit about me!" she cried, pulling her hands away from her face. Llewellyn sighed, and rubbed his tired eyes.

"I don't want to justify it. I want to go and give him as good a scolding as you did. But I'm trying to comfort you here, kid," he replied simply.

"I can't believe I was so blind. I _actually_ believed that he had one iota of affection for me," she muttered bitterly.

"Eli, you did _nothing_ wrong. _He_ was the one that overreacted, but you two can work through this," he tried to convince her. Eli glared out the window of the empty Rosings Park College hallway, wishing that it were night; that she could just slip away unnoticed by all.

"Be honest. What did you think of him?" she questioned sharply, meeting his amber eyes with her dark and stormy ones. Llewellyn sighed.

"I think… Eli, I can't say. I'm your teacher. I can't just tell you what I think," he reminded her.

"You're my friend, too!" she argued. He looked momentarily flattered, but shook his head.

"Eli, it's not – I can't. It wouldn't help at all," he replied, as if pleading for her to let him off the hook.

"Please, sir. Just… one word. Just one little word," she begged. He sighed, and his eyes flittered down to the floor.

"Mistaken," he said finally. "Everything he said in there. It was wrong. He clearly has the wrong idea," he informed her. Eli gave a tiny smile.

"Thank you. I'm glad you could be honest," she murmured, wiping away the last of her tears.

"Elizabeth? Eli?" she heard a voice calling for her. Turning around quickly, the thought momentarily flittered through her head that she had never been happier to see William Darcy in her life. She ran to him immediately, stepping into his hold as he moved forwards, her arms wrapped around his neck, her head buried in his shoulder as he supported her with his grip around her waist, her feet dangling a good few inches above the floor.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," she whispered into his neck, trying to stop more tears from flowing.

"I just don't get it. All we were doing was talking – what kind of father would say that to his daughter?" he questioned incredulously, holding her tightly to his body.

"I don't know. I don't know," she murmured, stifling a sob. She really _didn't_ know.

"It's alright. You don't need him. You have me now," Darcy replied a moment later.

But for some strange reason that didn't assure her at all.

"As much as I hate to break this up, you two should probably get back. Eli's parents will be waiting for her," Llewellyn said calmly, approaching the two. Darcy allowed Eli to slide out of his grip, and she pushed her dark hair from her face with still slightly shaky hands.

"Well they can wait. After the way they acted tonight, they deserve to have to sit around," Darcy snapped protectively, holding Eli's hand tightly and speaking as if she were a piece of valuable property that had risked damage.

"I'm tired, Will. I just want to go home," she murmured in response. A glimmer of anger flashed over his eyes.

"Alright. But if they –"

"They won't. I won't let them," she replied firmly. He gave a small sigh.

"On a slightly more positive note, you two both did very well. I'm sure you'll do wonderfully in the musical, if '_wishing you were somehow here again'_ is anything to go by," Llewellyn assured them.

"It was his violin playing," Eli attributed it to with a mumble.

"It was her voice," Darcy retorted.

"Well, I'm sure you two can argue over the credit for months, but you both did splendidly. I'm really looking forward to the musical, but you have to keep practising. Two weeks will go by unbelievably quickly," he reminded them. They both nodded. "Darcy, you had better go home. I want just one more word with Eli before she leaves," he added. Darcy nodded, and with a squeeze of Eli's hand, he headed back down the hall, slipping into the auditorium once more.

"I wasn't lying. I won't let Dorr do that again," she assured him. Llewellyn nodded sadly.

"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" he questioned softly.

"I know. I just… I don't talk about my parents that much. I tried to tell Darcy, but… it was hard. I couldn't tell him everything," she murmured.

"I don't expect you to tell me everything. But you've said before that you trusted me," he replied. She nodded firmly.

"I really do. I _wanted_ to tell you, but I knew there was nothing anyone could do, what's in the past is in the past. I try to only focus on the good stuff I can remember," she explained. "I didn't think it mattered. But… maybe you might be able to help. I don't know. It was pretty hard to tell Darcy, and I didn't intend to," she added quietly.

"I don't want to pressure you, but I'd like to know," he replied honestly. Eli nodded.

"I think I'm ready to talk about it," she murmured decidedly. Llewellyn gave a small smile.

"Why don't you come to my office tomorrow morning? You can miss a singing lesson here and there, I'm sure Darcy won't mind," he suggested. She nodded.

"Thank you. It's good to – I don't trust Darcy yet, I admit. I didn't tell him everything," she said softly.

"I'm honoured that you trust me, Eli. We'll talk tomorrow, okay?" he replied, to which she gave another nod. "You had better get back to your parents. I'll see you tomorrow," he finished.

"Thanks for getting me out of there," she said finally, just as she turned to walk away.

"Anytime," he responded simply, and with a nod of his head, he began his disappearance down the opposite end of the hall.

The car trip home was filled with a silence so heavy it was almost tangible. Eli stared out the window without letting a word slip from her lips, just running over her father's words earlier that day.

"_You've betrayed everything I taught you! You've turned away from me, your father, for the likes of that little snob!_" he had cried angrily, glaring at her with eyes of fire. "_And you! This is all your fault, she was fine before _you_ came along_!" he had continued, sending the same raging expression to Darcy. He had embarrassed her. Completely and totally humiliated her. She didn't think she could be angrier with Dorr than she was before the day's events, but, she thought bitterly, she seemed to have surpassed anger.

"You sung well, Eli," Francie sniffed as she jumped out of the car the moment it rolled out of the drive. Eli didn't stop to acknowledge one of her mother's rare compliments. Everything had been ruined… the taste of her victory with her musical assignment had turned bitter with Dorr's presence. She had been so thrilled that he had turned up, only to have that joy trampled over like it were nothing of any import.

She ran upstairs instantly and slammed her door. She was so… she couldn't even name the emotions running through her. She was upset, angry with her father, angry with herself, embarrassed and ashamed for having a dream and trying to follow it.

"You left your bag in the car. Mum asked me to bring it in," Jay announced, pushing open the door to her room in almost complete silence, before dropping Eli's messenger bag on the floor.

"I can't believe Dorr did that," she muttered in response, turning around to meet her sister's eyes.

She was surprised at what she found there. Jay looked cold, not loving and gentle, but… cold. Detached. Angry.

"Well he did. There's no use complaining," Jay replied simply, her voice clipped and short. She stared at the ground, clearly impatient to leave.

"Jay – he embarrassed us! He said horrible things to Darcy and I!" she argued, frustrated that Jay was so removed all of a sudden.

"I have homework. Are you finished?" she asked coolly. Eli's eyes widened in surprise.

"Jay? What's wrong?" she questioned in complete shock. That was probably the rudest thing she had ever heard come from Jay's mouth.

"Let's just say I'm sick of everything _always_ being about you. You always have to be the centre of attention – it's getting old," she snapped. "I only came to give you your bag. I don't want a bloody conversation," she added curtly, turning heel, and slamming the door behind her.

Eli could only stand rooted to the spot in complete and total shock.

So who was that girl that just walked into her room, and what had she done with Jasmine Bennett?

~ * ~

Llewellyn was very quiet when she had finished. He stared at his hands in silence, the words slowly sinking in.

"And you have no recollection of him giving you _any_ affection before they found out?" he finally questioned softly.

"He was always very distant from all of us. Francie never really… she never took to me. I'm not sure why," she muttered simply, giving a tiny shrug.

"And… how long did you stay at the hospital?" he asked shakily.

"The first time I went there everyday for two weeks. Mostly I sat in a room with a really big mirror and did puzzles for hours," she answered quietly.

"And that's what caused the panic attacks?"

"They were a combination of things. My brain is emotionally unstable, so the tendency for nervous episodes are of a higher risk. But a big part of the… episodes was my paranoia. I thought they were always watching me," she replied, trying to meet his eyes to gage his reaction. "Which bit are you trying not to let me know you're upset about?" she questioned finally. He took a deep breath.

"Your father's treatment of you is pretty… difficult to take in," he admitted slowly. "But I'm sorry. I just – how could teenage girls be so _cruel_?" he questioned angrily, his amber eyes flashing with emotion. "Why would they _do_ that to you?" he asked incredulously, his eyes wide and searching. Eli sighed.

"I was different. It's hard to accept something so different," she explained briefly with a shrug.

"Eli, they physically abused you, not to mention the incident at camp! How could –"

"Sir, you promised you wouldn't get upset," she reminded him, growing anxious. It had been hard enough to talk about all that had happened to her over the years, let alone to face his reaction.

"You realise that if you had reported this incident and these girls weren't minors, they would go to prison," he stated calmly, running his hand through his hair, trying to control his emotions. "What they did to you was literally torture! I've never heard of someone doing something that _cruel_ and horrible to another human being!" he exclaimed.

"I'm fine," she murmured quietly, staring at her lap.

"They could have killed you."

"They had the antivenom up at the campsite," she said softly.

"You were an hour away from the campsite! You would have died before they had a chance to do anything!" he cried angrily in response. A small tear leaked from her eye as memories flashed in her mind. "Did they know about your phobia?" he questioned, trying to regain some calmness. She nodded.

"Everyone knew. I screamed when a huntsman crawled into class the year before," she answered.

"So you're telling me that a group of teenage girls accosted, gagged and bound you, before putting a live tarantula on your stomach," he stated slowly.

"We call them funnel-webs," she murmured simply.

"It's one of the most dangerous spiders in the world," he said, trying to remain calm, but his voice was rising.

"I know! Do you think I wasn't scared? Do you think that I don't still have nightmares about it?" she questioned passionately, her eyes wide and fearful. "I don't know why I didn't tell anyone, and I don't know why I told you! Why did you _make me_ go through that again? I told you that I didn't want to say it!" she cried angrily in retort.

"It wasn't fair that you had to go through that! Through _any_ of what you've just described to me in the past twenty minutes!" he responded with equal emotion.

"I know! I _know_ it wasn't fair! But there's no point bringing it up again, it won't give me 'closure', it's just upsetting me!" she admitted honestly. Llewellyn sighed.

"I'm sorry. You trusted me and I shouted at you," he murmured, leaning his elbows on his desk, and running his hands through his light brown hair. "But you were incredibly lucky not to be bitten," he added. She nodded.

"I know."

"I think you should tell him."

"Tell who?" Eli questioned, feigning innocence. Llewellyn gave her a knowing smile.

"Tell Darcy. You have feelings for him, Eli," he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I don't! I mean, _maybe_ we could be friends, and I'm attracted to him, but I don't '_like_' him," she defended herself firmly. He chuckled.

"Well what's wrong with liking him? Just as long as you're responsible and intelligent about your relationship, there's no reason why you can't be more than friends," he pointed out. "You two _are_ constantly connected at the lips, you know," he added, his rich eyes sparkling teasingly. Eli felt her cheeks blush red.

"I don't want to like him until… I know he likes me," she admitted. "I'm not ready to make that leap," she practically whispered in explanation.

"I understand. Your entire experience with men has been quite negative. But maybe you just need to trust him," he offered. Chewing her lip, Eli nodded slowly.

"So… tell him everything?" she questioned. Llewellyn looked thoughtful.

"How do you think he would react if you told him about the incident with the spider?" he asked quite seriously. Eli thought for a moment.

"I don't like Diamondie. But I don't want her eyeballs to be displayed on a necklace and her internal organs decorating the halls of my old school," she rationalised. Llewellyn chuckled.

"Well you have your answer. Maybe for two questions," he replied, giving a tiny, cheeky little grin. Eli frowned slightly.

"Sir –"

"Eli, just trust him. I'm not saying don't be careful, because he is a teenage boy with hormones and reproductive organs," he began, laughing as Eli pulled a face. "Don't cringe! I remember what it was like to be a teenage boy, and I'm surprised Darcy has survived this long. I'm just saying, maybe a little more communication is in order. I think he'd appreciate it," he rationalised.

"Maybe," she sighed quietly. "It's just – this term has gone by so quickly, and… well, people are going to want an answer soon. They'll want to know if I'm going ahead with this," she explained. "But I don't _know_! And it's so hard to trust him, and there's so much pressure –"

"Listen, Eli," Llewellyn said calmly, his voice serious and penetrating. "You've been put in a horrible position since you were five years of age. You've come out brilliantly. And whilst you're in a terrible position once again, I think that maybe it's time you started to trust yourself again," he put forwards. Eli chewed her lip. "I know, Eli, that's it's hard to be labelled from such a young age. I know that it's difficult to trust yourself to make decisions about your life, to mature, to be happy, when you've had it nailed into you that you're unstable. After a while you start to believe what doctors and fathers and peers will say to you. But I don't want to see you going through life being miserable because you couldn't trust yourself enough to make that leap," he continued, his words honest and direct. Eli gave a slight sniffle as she wiped her cheek with the sleave of her cardigan.

"Why can't I just be a sixteen year old girl, going to a normal school, with no gifts, no labels, no fiancée, just a normal boyfriend and a normal Dad?" she questioned, almost pleadingly.

"I've asked myself some very similar questions for years, Eli," he replied with a small sigh, leaning back in his chair. "The world isn't fair. It's not fair that your gift is your curse. But I'm confident that you're stronger than any labels or prejudices that people may have against you," he said firmly.

"And you?" she questioned softly. His gaze flickered to the floor.

"I envy you your strength. Your resiliency. I don't have it," he replied finally, his gaze still somewhat distant. "But enough sadness for now. Tell William when you think you're ready to tell him. For now, I think getting through till the end of term is all you need to focus on," he said in a slightly more cheerful voice, changing the topic very suddenly.

"Thank you for… letting me get it all off my chest," Eli said in reply after a moment's thought. Llewellyn's eyes softened warmly.

"That's quite alright, Eli," he responded kindly as she rose from her chair, headed to the door. "Can I just ask – why have you never told anyone else about all of this?" he questioned as she reached for the knob. Eli stopped, and turned back to him slowly.

"I'm very cautious about who I put my trust in. You deserved it more than anyone else I've ever met," she shrugged simply. "There's no… great deep meaning, you're a good person, and I feel like I can talk to you. Because you're good," she explained plainly. A small smile crept over Llewellyn's lips, and he uttered a quiet 'thank you' before she slipped out of his classroom.

~ * ~

"Hey," Darcy greeted nervously as she entered the student lounge. She gave him a warm smile and sat down next to him, pressing a brief kiss to his lips as both a greeting and an assurance. "Are you alright?" he questioned softly.

"I'm fine. I spoke to Llewellyn, got some perspective on some things," she answered with quiet happiness.

"You really get along well with him, don't you," Darcy pointed out. Eli nodded confidently.

"He's one of the good guys. It's nice to talk to someone who understands things," she replied.

"And… I don't understand things? What you're going through?" he questioned, his voice revealing rare vulnerability. It startled her, but was gone before she even had the time to contemplate it.

"Sometimes it's important… to have someone older, wiser, more experienced than you," she began slowly, staring into open space thoughtfully. "I've never had a relationship with my parents where I can get their advice about important things in my life. Sometimes I think Llewellyn is more of a Dad to me than Dorr is," she muttered. "Do you understand?" she asked him calmly, meeting his gaze once more. He begrudgingly nodded.

"Are you doing anything this afternoon?" he questioned after a moment's thought.

"I was going to go over to Em's and do some more fittings for the costumes. She's starting on Amita's in _Don Juan Triumphant_," she replied.

"I'll talk to her. We should go out tonight," he decided, ignoring her response. Eli felt a scowl threaten her lips. He _always_ did that. "Don't do that," he murmured, noticing her frown.

"Will, I _wanted_ to go over to Em's tonight," she informed him, trying not to sound frustrated. He glanced around momentarily to check that they weren't being watched in their corner of the student lounge, before edging forwards, and pulling her from her chair. Eli blushed brightly and clumsily attempted to resist, but before she knew what was happening, she was sitting atop his lap, straddling his waist with his hands pressing gently on either side of her hips.

"Emilia will understand," he murmured gently against her lips, brushing them over lightly with his own, before pressing small, but firm kisses to her chin. Eli turned her head away in deep embarrassment, her tendency when he was being outwardly affectionate. "Just you and me. We don't even have to go home if you don't want," he said, raising his head from her jaw up to meet her eyes.

"I have homework," she replied shortly, her eyes lowered, her small hand curling softly against his chest. Her blush intensified as his hand slid from her hip to rest on the side of her thigh. "Will, you_ can't_," she practically begged him, her voice growing strained.

"Sorry," he apologised quietly, reluctantly removing his hand, moving it to instead play with the ends of her curls.

Eli felt shame course through her body. She knew that he had certain… desires. She knew that he was a boy, and as the combination of internet sites and library books said boys always wanted… to do things with girls, but the thought terrified her. She was admittedly incredibly inexperienced with the entire topic for someone in the world she lived in, but for the life of her, she couldn't understand what all the fuss seemed to be about. It sounded like a pretty horrible business, not to mention physically quite incomprehensible. She was filled with a sense of dread and something equally frightening but incredibly foreign every time he touched her in such an intimate manner.

_This is why he wants to get married to me_, she thought miserably. _He just wants to have sex, and I was just a convenience. I filled in all the right boxes for him_.

That was, however, almost the exact opposite of the reasoning behind Darcy's choice to have Eli as his wife.

'_You IDIOT! You just frightened her again, didn't you listen to a word Llewellyn said_?' he thought angrily to himself as he distracted himself with her hair, trying to ignore the sadness flashing in her dark eyes. '_Maybe it's time you told her how you really feel_. _Maybe it's time you let her know the truth_,' his own mind suggested.

The thought filled him with guilt. He couldn't do that to her. Not when she hated him. He already felt incredibly guilty about what he was doing to her, wooing her, taking advantage of her innocence to serve his own desires, using her obvious attraction for him to counter her hatred. He knew he was a foul human being for pushing her so, but he genuinely didn't know if he could survive without just… _touching_ her.

"What were you thinking we could do?" she asked nervously, after a moment's silence, curling her hand against his chest softly, meeting his eyes through lowered lashes.

"We could go into the city and see a film and get dinner," he suggested hopefully. Eli nodded.

"That sounds alright," she murmured softly, fiddling with a single thread that had come loose from his collar. "Will? You remember the Valentine's Day ball?" she questioned carefully. Darcy nodded.

"The dancing, or the conversation we had outside?" he asked in reply.

"I told you that you were holding me too tight in the dance. Remember?" she murmured. He gave a slow nod. "And you said you were sorry. That you had 'forgot'. Wh – what did you mean? What had you forgotten?" she asked slowly, finally airing the question that had been nibbling at her for months.

"Don't worry. I was just… it was nothing," he replied, entwining his hands with hers. Eli felt her heart sink. But what exactly had she expected him to say? "So are we on for this afternoon?" he questioned distractedly. Eli held back a sigh, and nodded.

"Sure," was her simply murmur. She raised her eyes to meet his, practically trembling with the intensity of his gaze. "Why me?" she questioned softly, so softly that he almost couldn't hear her.

"Your voice," he lied almost immediately. "It's divine. Perfect. And it can only improve," he informed her factually.

"Oh…" Eli dismayed, attempting to hide her disappointment. "Well… I guess… maybe it all makes sense now," she practically sighed.

_That's not supposed to hurt so much_, she reminded herself. _You don't like him_. _You don't like him_. _You don't like him_.

_You're not in love_. _You are NOT in love with him_. _He's rude, arrogant, assuming, over-controlling, proud and egocentric_.

'Oh God', Eli thought to herself in horror as he continued to play mindlessly with the ends of her dark brown curls. '_No_. _It can't be true_'.

_I'm in love with William Darcy_.

~ * ~

After realising what was probably one of the most catastrophic, life-destroying things she had ever come across, Eli had absolutely no idea how to act around William Darcy.

"So you don't like the Peaking Duck?" Darcy questioned, snapping her out of her reverie.

"What?"

"You ate one bite five minutes ago. I can only deduce that you didn't like it," he rationalised.

"No! I… it's just that I… I'm fine," she murmured distractedly, brushing her hair back nervously from her face with slightly trembling hands. She shakily picked up her chopsticks, and returned to poking the strange meat around her plate.

"Here, try this," he instructed, leaning across the table, holding out a piece off… well, she had no idea _what_ it was, on the end of his chopsticks. Staring at it in confusion for a moment, Eli nervously shifted, and allowed him to place the mystery morsel in her mouth. "What do you think?" he questioned, returning to his seat.

"It's… it's good," Eli replied, swallowing. "Umm, what is it?"

"I'm not entirely sure. But don't worry, it hasn't got any nuts," he assured her. Eli felt the tiniest of flutters in her stomach.

_He remembered that I'm allergic. How ni_ –

'No, Eli! The guy remembered that you're allergic to nuts – it doesn't mean he's in love with you!' her mind snapped sternly.

"So what happens if you eat nuts?" Darcy questioned curiously, after taking a sip of his green tea.

"It depends on the nut, and how much I have of it," she shrugged. "I mean, I'm fine with almonds. Mostly it's peanuts and cashews that I have the big issue with. If I were to eat about a small handful of cashews my throat would close up," she explained. "I can eat very small amounts of peanuts. If I were to eat a big hunk of peanut butter all at once it would be bad, but trace amounts is fine," she added.

"So… peanut oil and trace amounts won't hurt you?" he questioned cautiously.

"I'd have to eat a fair bit to have a dangerous reaction. So you won't be needing to perform a random tracheotomy," she assured him, trying to combat her nervousness with humour. "So, umm… do you have any allergies?" she asked suddenly, her desire to know more about him ever growing.

"Not that I'm aware of. Georgie is allergic to penicillin though," he answered with a shrug, picking at his fried rice.

"So is Jay," Eli murmured thoughtfully. Jay had been so confusing of late. She just wished that she could talk to her, get her to open up a little…

"I was thinking these holidays you could come up to Pemberley with Georgie and I. It'll give me a chance to show you England," he suggested.

Eli blinked in surprise. He wanted her to spend her holidays with him and his little sister… the little sister that he didn't want her to meet until he knew that they were going to go through with everything. Did that mean that he wanted to finalise the engagement? That he wanted to marry her?

"Umm, yeah. Maybe," she muttered distractedly, turning back to her plate in silence.

**12th of July, 2009**

**11:36PM**

Dear Journal,

If I married him, I could spend the rest of my life by his side. I could be his friend, his lover, partner, the voice to his symphonies, the mother to his children, his _wife_.

But… I don't know if I can spend the rest of my life by his side, knowing that he doesn't love me. How can I look him in the eye everyday, and know that even though _I _love _him_, he's never going to feel the same way about me? How can he? He doesn't find me attractive, he doesn't respect me, I'm just the means to his end! I'm just a tool that he needs to get his precious Pemberley! I can't just stay and wait around for him to love me!

But I don't know if I can go. Not anymore. I love him. I can't deny it anymore. I wish this were just some ridiculous crush, but I've _never_ loved anyone before. Not like I love him. I know that I'm sixteen and I can't base this off anything, and I know that teenage love never seems to last, but dammit, it doesn't matter if my feelings are caused by a bloody chemical imbalance in my mind, I _feel_ this! I love him! I can't comprehend spending the rest of my life without him, but I can't imagine spending it by his side in misery!

~ * ~

Eli threw her 'everything' book across the room to the floor, where it landed with a dull thump. She swallowed a miserable sob.

Nothing made sense anymore.

**A/N: So the moderated moved me to Pride and Prejudice, and I must admit I'm quite annoyed – I hadn't decided myself where this story and the sequel was going to live, and I don't appreciate that they took it upon themselves to make that decision, but I can't blame them, I doubt they're aware of the confusion surrounding the changes.**

**So it could be a good idea for you all to email the moderators (support fanfiction . com) and (politely, they do run the place you know) tell them your opinions on the changes. I would really like this to be sorted out before I publish 'The Hill', because I don't really know where I'm going to put it at the moment. Anyway, happy reading!**


	28. The Music of the Night

"_In my head, I replay our conversations,  
Over and over, til they feel like hallucinations,  
You know me, I love to lose my mind  
And every time anybody speaks your name I still feel the same  
I ache, I ache, I ache inside…_"

-Kate Miller-Heidke, 'The last day on earth'

George sighed as he sat down atop the bed, his hands gripping the sides. His senses were flooded with her lingering presence. Her delicate scent filled his nostrils, until he was hazy with repressed emotions.

He hadn't said anything about the kiss to her. They had moved on as usual, simply friends, as if the memory he held dearest had never happened at all. He knew it was right. He knew that there was no way they could ever become involved, not even in the future. He felt disgusting for wishing they could be, however.

Finally letting a suppressed sob of anger, frustration and desperate longing escape from his throat, George leant forwards, resting his head in his hands, allowing hot tears to escape from his eyes.

He treasured the memory of that kiss above all else in his life. But he also wished it had never happened.

Because one small taste of Emilia Woodhouse was a slow poison, slowly drawing out his suffering until it he was a crippled, trembling shadow of the man he once was.

And then it would kill him.

"It's only what you deserve," was his quiet whisper in response to that thought.

**~ * ~**

"Coming to bed?" Toni questioned softly as she rose from her place on the coach, crossing the room to Howl and his piano.

"No, I… I'll be a little while longer," he murmured quietly, softly trilling in the upper octaves, his hand moving mindlessly.

"Are you okay?" she asked carefully, stepping towards him. Howl raised his head to take in the lovely site Antoinette Noëlle presented to him. Based in the orange warmth of the desk lamp illuminating the room, her porcelain skin seemed to glow, her stunning features soft and elegant, the slowly lengthening strands of her white-blonde hair curling at the end, soft and wispy like a toddler's head. Her milky blue eyes peered over at him behind long dark lashes, the lace strap of her light nightgown having softly slipped off one perfect shoulder.

"Did you know that you're beautiful?" he questioned suddenly, playing a soft melody on the ivories with his perfect hands. Toni rolled her eyes and hid back a snort of laughter.

"Did you know that I really don't care about how I look?" she replied teasingly.

"You're beautiful. You don't need to care," he murmured quietly.

"You're pretty darn hot yourself, you know," she commented cheekily, arching a grin on her perfect lips.

"Do you love me?" he asked, after a long silence, filled only with his soft piano playing.

"What? Of course I do," Toni replied in confusion, as if he had forgotten every time she had said those words to him in the past. Howl nodded slowly.

"Okay."

"Is that it?" she questioned doubtfully, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I just wanted to know," he shrugged simply. "I never… quite seem to believe it," he explained briefly.

"I never seem to be able to believe that a gorgeous, talented, amazing man could love an immature klutz like me," she pointed out, moving to his side, and removing one of his hands from the piano so she could slide onto his lap, straddling him with her long legs. "What's up?" she asked him softly.

"I have a beautiful young woman on my lap. Do you _really_ need to ask that question?" he replied teasingly. Rolling her eyes at his immaturity, she attempted another question.

"Is everything alright?" she questioned carefully. Howl sighed, and stared rather deliberately at her shoulder.

"The musical is tomorrow night," he said finally.

"I'm sure it's going to be great," she assured him confidently. "You've got some amazingly talented kids, everyone knows their parts backwards, the costumes are wonderful, and everything is going to go off without a hitch," she continued. "And I'll be right next to you the whole time, making sure that you can actually enjoy yourself," she added.

"Just… avoid Catherine. She still hates you, you know," he sighed finally, a flicker of a smile playing on his lips. Toni sniggered in reply.

"I was at Rosings _two years_ and she thought I was the spawn of Satan!" she laughed, shaking her head at her old memories. "I'm sure she'll be fond to see me. Particularly when I'm snogging one of the teachers backstage in the intermission," she said thoughtfully.

"Hmm, and which teacher would that be?" Howl responded teasingly. Toni rolled her eyes, and simply pressed a light kiss to his lips.

"So why are you bummed out then?" she asked, after pulling away.

"I don't know. I just have this… feeling," he murmured. "I think it has something to do with Eli. She said a while ago that she'll probably leave after the musical. I guess I don't want her to go," he said quietly.

"She's a pretty special kid. I don't think she's going to leave," Toni replied after a moment's silence.

"I wouldn't underestimate her. She's strong," he reminded her.

"I know. But she's also in love with Darcy, and she seems to be having the time of her life with my cousin and George," she pointed out. "Not to mention the fact that she worships the ground you walk on, and wouldn't leave the country if you thought she shouldn't," she explained.

"She doesn't 'worship the ground I walk on', she trusts me, that's all," Howl objected with a slight frown.

"You know I've been hanging around with her a bit, right?" she questioned, to which he nodded. "When your name comes up in conversation she always raves about how cool you are," she informed him.

"No. I just listen to her, and not many people do that," he denied.

"But you got through to her! She listens to _you_! It's really hard to get through to teenagers, particularly troubled ones, you've done an amazing job with her," Toni assured him firmly. "She looks up to you, Howl. You're like a father-figure for her. I honestly don't think that she's going to leave," she said confidently.

"She needs more time. She's developing feelings for Darcy, she needs more time to come to terms with them before she leaves," he sighed.

"Then _tell her_."

"I will. After the musical, I'll have a word with her," he decided, after a long silence. Toni smiled gratefully, and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing an insistent kiss to his lips.

"Good. Now no more words."

~ * ~

Eli resisted the urge to tremble in nervousness as she ran the brush over her dark curls.

"Close your left eye," Emilia requested, immediately poking her with an assortment of makeup brushes and eye shadow.

"I'm going to throw up."

"There's a bucket over there."

"You're supposed to be concerned!"

"I'm also supposed to be wearing all blacks. 'Supposed to' means nothing to me," Emilia replied distractedly. "Alright, you're ready. Come back here immediately at the end of each scene, or I'll eat your head," she instructed, standing back confidently. Eli blinked at her reflection in the mirror, and tried to control her breathing as she heard the crowd in the auditorium cheer loudly as the first scene opened.

"I don't know if I can do this," she murmured.

"I know you can," a voice came from the open doorway. Eli turned immediately, her heart flooding with emotion as she took in Darcy's familiar form as he entered the room.

"Shouldn't you be getting dressed?" Emilia pointed out.

"I've got plenty of time," he brushed her off.

"Do you like her costume? I designed it myself," Emilia said proudly, gesturing to the slips of material that Eli wore.

"It certainly looks interesting," Darcy murmured, taking in how little it covered of her arms and stomach. Eli blushed brightly. "Could you give us a minute?" he requested politely.

"Nope," Emilia snapped, clearly annoyed at such a suggestion. "Oh, fine," she muttered, seeing Eli's expression. "I'll be here, waiting to change you for scene two, okay?" she announced.

"I'll see you then," Eli replied with a nod, before turning back to the dressing table, not even noticing that Emilia shut the door behind her.

"Scared?"

"I don't know if I'll be able to stand up," she admitted unhappily. Darcy chuckled.

"You'll be fine," he assured her, taking her hands in his from behind, looking at her in the reflection of the mirror. He softly ran his hand over her engagement ring with his thumb, watching as she applied the last finishing touches to her makeup. "So. This is it. The day you've been waiting for," he announced.

"I'm still scared, but pretty excited," she sighed dreamily. "I love this musical so much. It's all I ever want to do," she explained.

"You make a wonderful Christine," he murmured into her neck. She shivered.

"You make a pretty damn good Phantom," she pointed out, trying to keep her voice light and teasing, but it was somewhat strained.

"Have you warmed up?" he questioned, to which she nodded. "Come on then, Christine, let's go make your debut," he declared, pulling her up from her chair, before twisting her so she was pressed against his chest.

"Will, we don't have time," she murmured.

"Shh," he whispered, pressing his finger to her painted lips. "We have all the time in the world," he said quietly, before gently kissing her.

"We need everyone for the first scene in the wings, _now_!" a voice called from outside the small dressing room. Eli pulled away from Darcy, and with a small smile, slipped out of his arms and into the hall.

She waited carefully for her cue, before following the other dancers out onto the stage, where they twisted and turned, acting as trapped slaves. For that moment, she wasn't the star of the show. She winced as Clare butchered the song she was performing with her exaggerated vibrato, but the music was swelling around her and there was nothing but song.

She resisted the urge to find her parents in the huge crowd as she finally stepped forwards, out of the crowd of slave girls to sing her piece.

"Christine Daae could sing it, sir," Evangeline, a pretty lower-sixth former announced in her role of Meg as Carlotta stormed off the stage, leaving them without a soprano.

Eli tensed as the actors and actresses she had been working with so intensely for the past few months argued over whether or not she could sing the part. The cue came in, and the spotlight centred on her.

_"Think of me, think of me fondly,_

_When we've said goodbye!_

_Remember me, once in a while,_

_Please promise me you'll try_!"

She tried not to grin as she heard gasps and whispers from those in the audience. Her voice was something she was proud of, no one could take that away from her! The troubles of her life faded away as she was lost in the music, singing her soul out and not fearing what would happen when she went home that night, only to realise that the main cause for staying in England was over. Her dread evaporated. There was only music in her soul.

As the crowd cheered, she prepared herself for the final few bars, the operatic scatting of the scale. Her voice was as pure as crystal, she didn't waver, she didn't miss any notes, she shocked them all with her perfect, almost inhumanly high pitch, her heart souring at her triumph.

"That was fantastic Eli!" Emilia cheered excitedly as the curtains closed, and the stagehands immediately went about changing the scenery. "Come on, you need to put on the robe! But you were wonderful!" she said joyfully, snatching her friends wrist and pulling her off the stage.

"I feel like I'm on such a high, Em! I can do anything!" Eli laughed happily as they skipped into the wings. Her heart was souring. All those months of pain and misery were worth it! She had sung as Christine, and for that moment, she _was_ Christine. She _was_ in the Paris Opera, she _was_ singing for her angel of music.

"I know sweet, you could fly if you wanted," Emilia laughed patiently, immediately throwing the robe over her dress, and fixing her hair before the curtains opened once more, and she was practically thrown onto the stage to act once more.

She shivered as Darcy's magnificent voice echoed in the dressing room on stage. She knew that she played Christine's feelings for the Phantom very well. How could she not, when she was in love with him? When he was all she could thing about?

"_Insolent boy, this slave to fashion,_

_Basking in your glory_

_Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor,_

_Sharing in my triumph_!"

Another shiver rolled through her spine as she turned her head to glance around the room, as if searching for her angel of music. Oh, his magnificent voice… she wished almost desperately to see his face.

"_Angel I hear you speak, I listen,_

_Stay by my side, guide me!_

_Angel my soul was weak, forgive me,_

_Enter at last, master!_" she pleaded to him with her crystal voice.

"_Flattering child you shall know me,_

_See why in darkness I hide_

_Look at your face in the mirror,_

_I am there inside_!" he responded.

She walked as if in a state of hypnosis to the mirror, her steps not faltering even as Gershom cried from the other side of the stage for Christine.

"_Angel of music, guide and guardian,_

_Grant to me your glory!_

_Angel of music, hide no longer,_

_Come to me strange angel!"_

She felt another tremble threaten her as Darcy began his chant of '_I am your angel of music, come to me angel of music_', his voice drawing her towards false mirror, where he was slowly appearing. The stage hands quickly filled the stage with smoke and white light as Darcy, clad in a dark suit, long black cape and white half-mask reached out to take her hand.

The moment their hands touched, the famous organ riff reverberated around the auditorium in all its thunderous glory, and Eli stepped forwards, being pulled into the mirror.

Yes, it was going to be a very fine Opera.

~ * ~

Darcy felt his heart soar with pride as the woman he loved sung so purely, with her positively angelic voice ringing around the auditorium. She looked stunning, sexy and gorgeous in her white lace robe and nightgown. He was very glad that his brief word with Emilia had payed off – the costumes were all perfect. He couldn't have pictured her looking anymore beautiful.

"_I have brought you,  
To the seat of sweet music's throne,  
To this kingdom where all must pay  
Homage to music, music…_

_  
You have come here,  
For one purpose and one alone  
Since the moment I first heard you sing,  
I have needed you with me,  
To serve me, to sing, for my music, my music_..."

He watched her react carefully to his voice as he moved around the 'underground lair', his eyes never moving from hers. He could see her, practically trembling with the intensity. He smiled. Yes, she was ready. She finally had feelings for him.

"_Night-time sharpens, heightens each sensation,  
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination,  
Silently the senses abandon their defences_..."

He slowly edged towards her, his intense stare never wavering as he lent forwards, and took her hand, pulling her from the boat which had carried her across the misty 'lake'. She was gazing at him with incredulous wonder and… possibly… desire?

_"Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendour,  
Grasp it, sense it - tremulous and tender,  
Turn your face away from the garish light of day,  
Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light -  
And listen to the music of the night_,"

He could still see her trembling as he led her around the set, growing more and more passionate for his song. He didn't care that there were hundreds of people in the crowd, with their eyes glued on him, no, all that existed was the music and Eli. He wished he could dub her with a title, for he knew that he was acting as the 'angel of music' to her, but what was she to him?

"_Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams!  
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before!  
Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar!  
And you'll live, as you've never lived before_…"

He smiled triumphantly. She was his little melody. She was constantly playing in his mind, her tune ever changing, rising and falling beautifully with every day, every word that she said, and every smile that she ever graced him with. She was _his_ melody.

"_Softly, deftly, music shall caress you,  
Feel it, hear it, secretly possess you!_

_Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind,  
In this darkness which you know you cannot fight -  
The darkness of the music of the night_,

_Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world!  
Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before!  
Let your soul take you where you long to be!  
Only then, can you belong to me_…"

He let go of her hand, and began moving around the set as she watched in quiet hypnosis. His heart was filling with pride, she _was_ Christine. How could he have ever thought she wouldn't get the role? She slipped in it like it were a dress designed solely for her, she lived and breathed the role. She was perfect.

"_Floating, falling, sweet intoxication,  
Touch me, trust me savour each sensation,  
Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in,  
To the power of the music that I write -  
The power of the music of the night_…"

He pulled her back tightly to his body, pressing his hand over hers and running it up her side, to press against his cheek. He turned into her hand, smelling the slightest essence of lavender on her wrist, his other hand sliding across her torso. He knew that perhaps he was over-doing the scene somewhat, but he wanted to make sure that she never forgot his touch.

With regret, he removed her from his tight grip, and pulled her across the set, over to the mannequin wearing a wig that matched her dark brown curls – it was supposed to be a model of Christine, but if one were to peer closely at it, its face had been drawn on with a sharpie. Seeing a 'mirror' of herself, wearing a long white gown and veil, 'Christine' collapsed in his arms, fainting clear away. He picked her up with ease, noting how perfectly she seemed to fit in his arms.

"_You alone can make my song take flight -  
help me make the music of the night…"_

He finished on a high note, as he placed her 'sleeping' body atop the large bed on the centre of the stage, her curls splayed across the red scarlet pillows perfectly. He reluctantly let the curtain close, hiding her form from his eyes.

'I love you', he mouthed silently, as his back was turned to the audience. He gave a slight pained expression as he realised that she hadn't heard.

Yet.

~ * ~

"You were perfect!" Darcy breathed with relief, his lips stretched into one of his seldom-seen smiles as he laughingly pulled Eli into his arms.

"_You_ were ridiculously perfect," she replied with a soft giggle, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pressing a firm kiss to his lips. They both smiled as they heard the opening strains of '_Notes_' on the stage, before retuning to their more enjoyable pastime.

"Get a room!" a familiar voice hissed, startling them both. Eli's cheeks burned red, before a scowl took its place on her face.

"Richard bloody Fitzwilliam, how the hell did you get backstage?" she questioned accusingly. Richard gave a smug grin, and rocked onto the balls of his feet.

"Did you see the babe in charge of props?" he asked cheekily. "Damien, I think his name was. _Hot_," he added, inspecting his nails in mock casualness, but he was unable to fight the smirk threatening his features. "He was very, uhh… _helpful_," he informed them teasingly. Eli rolled her eyes as Darcy cringed. "Anyway – the point is, Eli, you're so bloody unbelievably good that I can't even find _words_," he added finally.

"Thanks, Richard, but we have to go change now," Eli replied, pulling him into a quick hug.

"Hmm. Sure that's what you're going to be doing?" he questioned curiously with a raised brow, glancing over to his cousin.

"Shutup, Richard," Darcy scolded, wrapping his arm loosely around Eli's waist, and pulling her to his side. "We'll come find you in the intermission. Try not to molest or impregnate anyone whilst we're gone," he instructed, much to his cousin's amusement, before they slipped down the hall to Eli's dressing room.

"I didn't even know he was in England!" Eli exclaimed as Darcy slammed the door shut with his foot. She didn't have a chance to say anything else, however, before he pulled her into a deep kiss, his hands tangling in her dark brown curls. Eli gasped with surprise, but very quickly was able to reciprocate his actions, running her hands up his chest to rest on his shoulders. Before she knew it they were sitting in the chair before her mirror, Eli atop his lap as his kisses moved up her jaw and down her neck.

"Eli, I hope you're in here, because I swear to –"

"Emilia!" Darcy cried angrily, the moment the door was pulled open. Eli's face burnt bright red as he removed his hands from her waist and his lips from her collarbone, wishing that she could turn invisible with just a snap of her fingers.

"Oops. You were making babies. Sorry about that," Emilia apologised abruptly, however she didn't look sorry at all, and was clearly fighting laughter. "I need to help Eli into her costume. And apparently… redo her hair," she informed him, taking in her messy curls.

"Get out!" Darcy snapped, his eyes flashing darkly. Emilia rolled hers in response.

"I'll be back in five minutes – you had better be gone by then!" she demanded impetuously, but reluctantly shut the door upon leaving the room. Darcy gave a frustrated growl, and pulled Eli tighter to his chest.

"Don't you ever find that girl a bit annoying?" he questioned with a sigh.

"As embarrassing as it was, you have to admit, it was pretty funny," she pointed out. Darcy rolled his eyes as she began to laugh, clearly resisting the urge to do so himself.

"Do you need her to help you change?" he questioned, to which she shook her head.

"Umm… if you could just look away for a minute," she requested, sliding off his lap. He raised an eyebrow and smirked as she took her page-boy's costume from the rack.

"And… if I don't?" he asked simply, crossing one leg over the other and regarding her with well-practised ease.

"Close your eyes, put your hands over them, turn around, and I'm changing behind the costume rack," she stated in quick reply, ducking behind the offending object with a small laugh.

"Well you're no fun," he murmured in disappointment. Eli gave another chuckle from behind the costume rack. "I wanted to talk to you about something tonight, by the way," he announced, spinning around aimlessly in the chair as he waited for her to finish changing.

"About what?" she questioned, as he heard her undo the zipper of her costume.

"Just… things. The future," he informed her with a lithe shrug, but the effect was lost behind the rack of costumes. He heard the sounds of her changing silence immediately.

"The future?" she repeated doubtfully, her voice filled with trepidation.

"Are you doing anything after the performance?" he asked her, trying to keep his voice light and free of anxiety.

"Umm… no, not especially," she murmured, slowly continuing to change.

"Good. I can take you home, I just wanted… to tell you something, I guess," he explained, playing mindlessly with some of the makeup brushes on the dresser.

"Any hints?"

"Nope."

"Well, I… I guess so," she muttered finally, stepping out from behind the clothing rack.

"What did you do?" he exclaimed in surprise, looking her up and down in shock.

"Nothing, I just… the top half is really tight, and the costume is cut differently. I'm supposed to look like a boy," she stammered in response, startled with his reaction.

"You don't look like a boy. You look like a girl with a very important bit of your anatomy missing," he objected, growing quite upset. He rose quickly to his feet, and began to circle her. "You _definitely _don't look like a boy," he informed her, upon viewing her from behind.

"Will! It's just for a few minutes!" she reminded him sternly, stepping away, placing her hands on her hips and sending him a fiery glare. He resisted the urge to chuckle at her expression, but his concern was much stronger than that urge.

"Doesn't it hurt?" he questioned incredulously. She shrugged.

"It's… uncomfortable. It's very tight, I feel like I'm lying on my stomach," she explained briefly.

"No. I won't have you being uncomfortable – you have to loosen it," he said sternly. Eli rolled her eyes at his commanding tone.

"It's _fine_. I have to get ready for the next scene now," she countered, a comforting smile playing on her lips.

"Alright then," he muttered reluctantly. "But remember, straight after the performance we'll leave, okay?" he clarified. Eli chewed her lip slightly, and nodded. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, and headed over to the door. "I have something very important I need to talk to you about. Try and get away as soon as you can," he directed, before giving her a small wink, and slipping out of her dressing room.

Eli slowly took her seat in front of the mirror, and picked up her brush. As she stroked her locks in silence, she thought on his words.

'_Fuck_', she thought to herself with sudden realisation. '_He wants to announce the engagement_. _He wants to make this official_'.

A thought that would normally fill any girl in love with complete and total joy nearly caused Eli to physically tremble with fear. If he cared nothing for her, only desiring a means to getting his inheritance and a mother to his heirs, she didn't know if she would be able to say 'yes'.

~ * ~

Dorian Bennett watched his daughter with curiosity and an emotion that he simply couldn't name.

He cared little for music, but he could tell that she was… _incredibly_ talented. Not to mention that he had no idea she could act!

"_His eyes will find me there, those eyes that burn_!

_And if he has to kill a thousand men,_

_The Phantom of the Opera will kill, and kill again_!" she sung passionately as she ascended the prop of a winding staircase, her dress billowing around her frame, her dark eyes wide with fear.

"Seriously Jay, Raoul is _fit_," Lyla hissed across him to her elder sister. Jay rolled her eyes, and smiled prettily at Christian, who sat beside her.

"Forget him, Lyla! His family has no money," Francine retorted in a not-so-quiet whisper.

"I'm not interested in his money," Lyla giggled to Kate. Dorr felt disgust rise in his chest. His daughters were all brats. Even Eli, who had such hope for, was throwing away her gift for a husband and music – a true crime.

He occasionally felt guilty about not resisting the marriage. He had listened to her screams of '_I _hate_ William Darcy_' and '_how could you _do_ this to me?_', but he preferred to drown them out. His children were just decorations in the house, what they did was their own concern. He had only allowed himself to be dragged to the performance because Francine had threatened to make him sleep on the couch for a month.

He felt a sigh rise in his throat as he realised that his life had turned out nothing like it was supposed to. He was at first too proud to admit that he should have bothered with contraceptives a good eighteen years before, but in hindsight, he wished he had. He'd never liked children. They were loud, selfish things that always seemed to be covered in jam and paint, particularly the girls. But if he absolutely _had_ to have a child, he would have preferred it to be a son. Of all his girls, however, Eli was probably the best, but also the biggest disappointment. He wouldn't have minded if he had a son similar to her.

_Only not as clever_, he mused silently. He despised having a daughter that he knew was more intelligent than him. If he were honest with himself, he would be able to admit that part of his desire to be rid of Eli was because he couldn't stand seeing her grow wiser each day. The child was not supposed to be smarter than the parent, it was wrong! It was against the laws of nature.

'_Yes_', he realised. '_Elizabeth is against the laws of nature, so deserves an unnatural punishment_. _Perhaps marriage to this boy will teach her what her place is in life_', he added thoughtfully, before turning back to the performance.

He ignored the itching feeling that he had done his daughter some disservice.

It was just a feeling, and feelings, he reminded himself, could never be trusted.

~ * ~

"_Think of it, a secret engagement!_" Eli sung clearly as she stepped onto the stage, decorated in gorgeous shades of gold and silver with a large fake grand staircase taking up the majority of the space, arm in arm with Gershom, clad in her _Angel_ costume. It was stunning. Emilia had completely outdone herself on that piece, she deserved some sort of award ceremony for it.

The material was a soft, slightly sparkling satin that clung to all the right parts of Eli's figure, highlighting her curves and complimenting her features. It flowed to the floor with a reasonable train, and was modelled halfway between the _Atonement _dress and some kind of fairytale ball gown, with a layer of soft chiffon draping over the skirt. Her dark curls were pulled back into a loose, but elegant do, intertwined with gold, silver and ivory ribbons. She had a pair of very beautiful, large crepe-paper wings that had long ribbons draping down to the floor on her back, which was for the most part uncovered. Her makeup was perfect, pale skin with autumn-gold blush and bold shimmering eyeshadows, a beautiful white lace mask on the end of a long stick held in her hand. All in all it was stunning.

"_Look, your future bride! Just think of it_," she urged her imaginary fiancée excitedly as they passed into the group of splendidly dressed dancing couples.

"_But why is it a secret_? _What have we to hide_?" the boy challenged in return, with a somewhat forced expression of exasperation. A few people cringed. He didn't make a particularly believable Raoul. He looked more nervous than enamoured.

Eli couldn't help but suspect that Darcy's cool and angered glares from the sidelines had something to do with Gershom's anxiety. He was, after all, quite frightening when he wanted to be.

Her mind turned back to Darcy as she danced with Gershom, the music rising to a strong crescendo under Llewellyn's conduction. She was contemplating revealing her feelings to him, laying her cards out on the table and requesting that he pick one. She doubted if she could survive living the rest of her life beside him, never being sure of his feelings for her.

The chorus swelled around her, sending her into a dizzying frenzy of thoughts and music.

"_Masquerade! Paper faces on parade, _

_Hide your face so the world can never find you!_

_Masquerade! Every face a different shade,_

_Masquerade, look around there's another mask behind you_,"

Yes, she thought to herself. She was indeed trapped in a masquerade, in more than one way.

The music came to an abrupt halt, the Phantom's theme filling the auditorium, and all heads turned immediately to the 'grand staircase' in the centre of the stage with gasps and screams.

Darcy stood at the top, looking both as menacing and handsome as ever in his costume of Red Death, a skeletal white mask covering all but his mouth and eyes. Eli had to admit that he did fill out his costume quite well. Red was a much nicer colour on him than the usual blacks and greys that he restricted his wardrobe to.

"_Why so silent good monsieurs_? _Did you think that I had left you for good_?" he questioned in his ethereally good voice, descending the stairs in sharp movements, timed perfectly to the staccato-like orchestra surrounding him, filling the audience with fear. He was a very convincing Phantom. "_Have you missed me good monsieurs? I have written you an opera! Here I bring the finished score – 'Don Juan Triumphant'!_" he continued, throwing down a leather bound manuscript before the two boys playing the managers of the theatre.

Eli's eyes were trained onto Darcy. It was appropriate that her character was supposed to be hypnotised by the Phantom, because she was truly hypnotised by Darcy. She felt Gershom leave her side, but took no notice of it. Not when Darcy's eyes were burning with such intensity.

"_My fondest greetings to you all, a few instructions just before rehearsal starts_," Darcy continued, drawing his sword from the hilt attached to his belt, inspecting it with feigned curiosity that increased his menacing appearance. "_Carlotta must be taught to act, not her normal trick of strutting around the stage!_," he declared, turning to a rather red-faced Clare, who wore a very disgusting orange dress that she had brought from home. She had insisted on wearing it in the performance, despite the fact that Emilia had made a perfectly lovely dress for her to wear. "_Our Don Juan must lose some weight, it's not healthy in a man of Piangi's age," _he added, turning his sword next to Oliver Hackett, an upper-sixth former who was playing the male lead of the Opera Populaire.

Eli wanted to laugh at the almost comical way that Darcy was insulting Clare and Oliver. It revealed his rarely-seen playful side, a part of him that Eli had only really seen when they were alone together, and he was feeling very comfortable.

"_And my managers must learn, that their place is an office, not the arts_," he sung, strolling over to Marshall and Xavier (André and Firmin) with another menacing lunge of his sword that did no harm.

She was startled at how well he seemed to slip into his role onstage. He was a born performer when he stepped out there.

"_As for our star, Miss Christine Daaé,_" he announced, turning finally to face her, sliding his sword back into its sheath. He met her eyes with his usual intensity, and began to move towards her. Eli felt shivers run down her spine, but she was helpless to move. It was like she was a trapped dear beneath the headlights of his voice.

"_No doubt she'll do her best, it's true,_

_Her voice is good, she knows, though,_

_Should she wish to excel, she has much still to learn,_

_If pride will let her return_

_To me, her teacher, her teacher…_"

His voice faltered slightly at the end, when the Phantom's anger ceased. The main strains of '_No one would listen_' rose up around them as Eli slowly stepped towards him. She stopped only a foot away from where he stood, looming down at her with the added height that the last step provided. She was unable to remove her eyes from his, unsure of where the acting finished and real life began. The audience was lulled into a sense of softness and security, several women giving soft 'awws' as they drew closer.

Suddenly, Darcy lunged forwards and snatched the chain from around her neck on which the engagement ring Raoul had given Christine lay.

"_Your chains are still mine! You belong to me_!" he cried angrily, before with a bang and explosion of dry-ice smoke, he 'disappeared' through the hidden door in the grand staircase.

The rest of the scene was a blur to Eli. All that lingered in her memory was Darcy's burning eyes.

~ * ~

"You were awesome."

"I stuffed up the second verse."

"No you didn't."

"I _feel_ like I did."

"You were awesome – end of story," Emilia finalised, stepping back from her 'artwork'. Eli chewed her lip and glanced in the mirror.

"I look pale," she murmured quietly.

"Yeah… that wasn't the makeup. That's you, I'm afraid," Emilia informed her with as much cheer as she could muster. "Come on, this is one of your favourite bits from the musical, and then you've only got _The Point of No Return _and the _Finale_," Emilia reasoned.

"I'm scared," she admitted.

"I'm sure it'll be fine. I'm a hundred percent sure that Darcy is in love with you," Emilia replied quietly. Eli's eyes widened.

"How did you –"

"Elizabeth Bennett? You need to go to the wings, you're about to sing," one of the stagehands informed her smartly, ducking his head into the dressing room.

"Go away, whatever your name is! She'll be up in a second!" Emilia snapped, instantly making some last minute adjustments to Eli's hair as the red-faced stage hand departed.

"He said he had something important to talk about," Eli informed her nervously.

"It'll probably be his everlasting love and affection. Everything will be fine," she assured her. Eli gave a weak smile, but nodded, and rose to her feet, the hem of the dark navy dress swishing around her ankles. "Now go sing and make me proud, hun. You're doing really well so far," she added.

"Thanks, Emi," Eli sighed with a soft smile, before she slipped out of the dressing room.

Emilia's chest filled with a familiar warmth that came with helping people. She lived for it. She lived to make other people happy.

_If only you could be happy yourself, Em_, a quiet little voice murmured in the back of her head. Emilia gave a scowl of disagreement. No, she didn't need that little thought. It was only an inconvenience.

~ * ~

Antoinette tilted her head slightly as Eli's ethereal voice began to fill the auditorium, her dark eyes wide and painfully honest as she backed away from the boy playing Raoul into the corner of the 'chapel'.

"_Twisted every way, what answer can I give?_

_Am I to risk my life, to win the chance to live?_

_Can I betray the man who once inspired my voice?_

_Do I become his prey? Do I have any choice?_

_He kills without a thought – he murders all that's good!_

_I know I can't refuse, and yet, I wish I could…_

_Oh God, if I agree, what horrors wait for me?_

_In this, the Phantom's Opera?_" she sung in desperate question.

Toni frowned. Perhaps she sung those lines with a little too much familiarity.

~ * ~

"_No thoughts were in her head, but thoughts of joy…_

_No dreams were in her heart but dreams of love_…"

Darcy felt a shiver run down his spine as he came in site of her, and heard her heavenly voice fill the stage. She wore an immodest gypsy costume, her white linen blouse cut low, the sleaves loose and falling over her pale shoulders, the scarlet corset clinging to her every curve, the material of the pale gold skirt almost completely transparent, with a large split rising up one slender thigh. Her hair fell down her spine in dark curls, her lips painted a strong red, long black lashes framing her wide dark eyes, giving her the air of a beautiful, innocent gypsy girl.

"_Passarino, go away, for the trap is set, _

_And waits for its prey_," he sung clearly, stepping out onto the stage, clad in black trousers, a white linen shirt and a long dark cape. He noticed her shiver as she turned her head slightly from her task to glance across at him. Her eyes were dark with submission to his powers over.

"_You have come here, in pursuit of your deepest urge,_

_In pursuit of that wish which till now has been silent, silent…_

_I have brought you! That our passions may fuse and merge,_

_In your mind you've already succumbed to me,_

_Dropped all defences, completely succumbed to me,_

_Now you are here with me, no second thoughts, _

_You've decided, decided…_"

He slowly strolled around the stage, drawing ever nearer to her. He resisted the urge to smile as his little melody, his little angel of music continued to tremble with the power of his voice, her eyes fluttering to a close as she savoured his words. He didn't remove his eyes from her as he continued to move closer. He didn't know if he could. She rose just as he moved to the chorus.

"_Past the point of no return,_

_No backward glances, _

_Our games of make believe are at an end, _

_Past all thought of 'if' or 'when', _

_No use resisting, _

_Abandon thought and let the dream descend,"_ he continued, circling her like a wild beast circled its helpless prey. And she was helpless to resist him at that point.

"_What raging fire shall flood the soul?_

_What rich desire unlocks its door?_

_What sweet seduction lies before us?_"

He practically growled the lines out, his voice low and husky as he pressed himself to her back and pulled her into his chest, her head thrown back and lips parted in a soft gasp as he pressed one hand on her waist and the other ran ever-so-slowly over her neck and up to her jaw, before reversing its path, until he was holding only her hand in his, softly pulling her to follow him.

"_Past the point of no return, _

_The final threshold, _

_What warm unspoken secrets will we learn?_

_Beyond the point of no return?"_

He released her as he finished his solo lines for the song. She moved away, and pulled her sleave back up to cover her shoulder, but it only stubbornly slid back down to its natural place. She met his eyes with passion and force.

"_You have brought me, _

_To that moment when words run dry,_

_To that moment where speech disappears into silence, silence…_"

She sung with full force, her eyes alight with the fire and intensity of the words she sung. He shivered with the intensity that seemed to be radiating off her entire presence, she was a flame, burning so brightly in his presence.

"_I have come here, hardly knowing the reasons why,_

_In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, _

_Defenceless and silent ­_–"

That same shiver rolled up his spine once more as she met his eyes with her smouldering earth and jade ones, her voice so strong and passionate that he felt he could almost touch it.

"_Now I am here with you,_

_No second thoughts,_

_I've decided, decided…_"

His heart felt like exploding in his chest. She sung those words with too much feeling – was she confirming what she must already know? What she telling him through the song that she had decided to make their engagement official?

"_Past the point of no return,_

_No going back now!_

_Our passion play has now at last begun!_"

A heavy, seductive tango-like beat dominated the orchestra, the recording Darcy had already made of his violin solo beginning to play as they seemed to circle each other across the stage. She moved with confidence and a seductive quality that he hadn't known she possessed, but was very grateful to see.

"_Past all thought of right or wrong, _

_One final question –_

_How long should we two wait before we're one?_

_When will the blood begin to race?_

_A sleeping bud burst into bloom?_

_When will the flames at last consume us_?"

Her voice was rich and passionate, with a gorgeous throaty deepness on the low notes and a crystal-like precision of the higher tones. They began ascending the winding staircase prop that the woodtech students had been working on for a month, their eyes never moving from the other, the tension almost tangible between them.

"_Past the point of no return –_

_The final threshold!_"

Their voices rang out in perfect harmony and contrast, creating a sound that was so ethereally perfect that it caused several people in the audience to drop programs and visibly shiver as they mounted the platform and moved towards each other.

"_The bridge is crossed,_

_So stand and watch it burn!_

_We've passed the point_

_Of no return…_"

He took her hands in his, her pale, lithe hands, before he spun her around so her back was pressed against his chest, placing his hands on her hips and covering them with his, running them up her side, across her diaphragm and even over her chest, before running over the glorious turn of her neck and caressing the side of her perfect face. He could hear her breathing quicken, her pulse rushing beneath his palm, her skin like a glorious heated silk beneath his hands. Members of the audience gasped and sighed and 'oohed' and 'ahhed', women fanning their faces with their programs as the couple practically burst into flames before their eyes.

"_Say you'll share with me one life, one lifetime…_

_Lead me, save me from my solitude…_

_Say you want me with you here, beside you_…"

He sung softly, pulling away from her slightly but still holding her tightly in his grasp. His voice was pained and filled with longing, a sorrow that he knew all too well.

"_Anywhere you go, let me go too!_" he cried in tragic beauty, his hands cupping the side of her face, and he sung with more honesty than he had ever felt before. "Elizabeth…" he murmured softly, so only she could hear, her eyes wide and filled with awe. Lips that were born to pout fell slightly, and she trembled in his grasp. "_Christine, that's all I ask of –_"

A bone-chilling scream filled the theatre as Eli pulled the mask from his face, revealing his 'distorted face' to the crowd. People gasped and cried out in shock and surprise, but William didn't hear them, all he saw was the woman he loved beside him.

He sprung into action as his cue came up, reaching for a rope hanging by the prop. He tugged on it, impatient to get the scene over and done with, but in his impatience he pulled too hard. Eli screamed and held tightly onto him as they fell through the 'trap door' that they were supposed to climb through, her skirt billowing around her slender thighs as they fell through the prop to the floor. He pulled her close into his grip, crushing her head against his chest as he prayed that she would not be harmed, encircling her body with his before they handed on the thick and soft black hi-jump mattress that had been placed there for that very reason. They fell, hidden from the crowd, behind a cut-out of a dining table, causing members of the audience and performers alike to scream.

"Eli! _Tell me_ you're alright!" he demanded instantly, ignoring the brilliant chandelier prop 'crashing' onto the stage, a piece of special effects that the Entertainment students had been working on furiously, still holding her lithe body against his. His heart was pounding in his ears; she just _had_ to be okay…

"I – I'm fine," she murmured, raising her head, her dark eyes wide and afraid, but she seemed unharmed. She fell back on the mattress as Darcy signalled to the stage hands that they were unharmed.

"You need to go get changed!" the stage hand hissed. Darcy chewed his lip, but nodded, and took Eli's hand in his, leading her onto the wings.

"Are you alright?" he questioned her softly again. She nodded, but stumbled as he released her. He pulled her tightly to his chest, and pressed a soft kiss to her brow.

"Go get some water and lie down," he demanded of her. She nodded, and turned to walk down the hall to her dressing room.

"Thank God!" Llewellyn cried in relief as he pulled open the door to the backstage, and breathlessly looked around the wings, where concerned performers and stage hands crowded around Darcy. "Eli! I – is she okay?" he questioned, his face white, his eyes wide and afraid. Darcy nodded in response.

"She's going to go lie down for a minute. You need to call an interval – just ten minutes, at least. She's pretty shaken up," he answered quickly, keeping his voice low. Llewellyn nodded, desperately trying to catch his breath.

"Don't _scare me_ like that!" he ordered angrily, placing his hand on his heart, attempting to control his breathing. "I'll go call an interval – fifteen minutes, okay?" he decided, to which Darcy nodded, and let him slip away.

He pulled away from the attentions of the other students.

So… at least he knew that he would die for Eli, he thought with a soft smile.

~ * ~

"Man! Thank God you're okay!" Eli heard a relieved voice exclaim from behind her. She turned, still slightly unsteady, her dark eyes focusing on the familiar form of one Richard Fitzwilliam. He pulled her into a comforting hug. "You scared me, you little daredevil!" he muttered, before allowing her to pull away. She sighed, and gave a tiny little smile and shrug.

"I'm okay," she assured him softly.

"Well… just don't do that again – it'd kill my cousin if you got hurt," he demanded firmly.

"He'd live," she whispered quietly under her breath, but for some reason she desperately hoped she was wrong.

"No, he wouldn't. You're everything to him, young missy," he informed her soberly. She met his eyes with disbelief, and he nodded, his tone for once filled with seriousness. "He doesn't like talking about it, but… he really does care about you, Eli. He really wants this marriage, and it's made him happier than he's been since his parents died that you finally return his feelings," he explained. Eli gasped, and struggled to find words.

"What – what did he tell you?" she questioned quickly, her heart swelling with hope.

"That he wants you in his life. He's had a pretty miserably existence, Eli, his Mum died of breast cancer when he was fourteen and his Dad commit suicide a few months later, you're the best thing that's ever happened to him," he informed her softly. Eli felt like her heart had broken where she stood. How could he have suffered such pain and still be standing? Still be the amazing man that he was? "Listen, he's… he's shy, I know, but he _does_ want this. He's a good guy to have around," he assured her.

"I – I know," she murmured.

"He's the best guy you could ever want to be there for you. He'd do anything for you, for his friends, you don't know what he's done for other people," he sighed. Eli frowned in confusion.

"What do you mean?" she questioned curiously.

"Well, I don't know the details, but he had this friend, I think it was Chad or Chase or something like that, and this bitch of a gold digger was fawning over him," he began. "So he talked to his friend, and managed to convince him what was really going on, and now his friend is happy, and the bitch has moved on to another rich-bitch," he explained.

Eli couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her world as she knew it suddenly shattered around her feet – everything she had known was suddenly crashing and burning. _He_ was responsible for separating Jay and Char – _he_ caused her sister to be miserably! _He _made her cry!

"He's always doing stuff like that. He loves to help people, to make things right," Richard continued, but she was barely hearing his words. "He _hates_ people that just want money. That's why he cut Gershom out – but he probably told you about that already," he reasoned. Eli's ears picked up slightly, but she didn't react any further than her current state of disbelief. She simply couldn't comprehend what was happening.

"Umm – Richard, I need to go lie down, I'm tired, and I still have one more song," she murmured, interrupting his ramblings.

"Oh. Well, I got sent down to say that you have a fifteen minute intermission, so you should have time to rest. I'd better go, I wanted to check on Will," he responded, pulling her into one last quick hug, before she practically ran into her dressing room.

She couldn't believe it. He'd separated Jay and Char.

'_It's the natural course of action… without human's instinct to put survival above all else, we wouldn't even be here…_'

His words came streaming back to her, spinning around in her already very disorientated head. Memories of every little arrogant thing he had ever said flashed before his eyes, every little disdainful sneer and over-confident smirk, how _dare_ he assume that he could play God with her _sister_?

"Elizabeth! God – I'm so glad you're alright," she heard the man himself exclaim as he pulled the door closed behind him. She turned around slowly, trying to keep her face devoid of expression. She wanted to be calm. "E – Eli? Are you okay?" he questioned in confusion, seeing the expression on her face. "Sorry. You must be shaken up," he muttered in realisation. "I swear, I thought I had lost you. I was so terrified," he added, taking her by the crook of the elbow, and leading her to the chair sitting before the dressing table. "You should just relax for a minute, you have some time before you need to change," he announced.

Eli refused to meet his eyes. She had no idea what she was going to say, what she was going to do, she wanted to punch the son of a bitch that had destroyed her sister's happiness in the jaw! She couldn't understand how she had been so wrong about him!

"Eli, angel, seriously – I – I had no idea we were going to fall, I'm just glad you're okay," he murmured softly, taking her hands in his. He stared at the ring on her left hand in a softened expression.

"Why did you do it?" she found herself questioning suddenly. He met her eyes in surprise.

"I didn't mean to, I just pulled the rope too hard. I'm sorry," he replied almost instantly, meeting her eyes apologetically. Eli turned away, and grit her teeth in anger.

"Why did you tell Char to break up with Jay? Why did you crush my sister?" she demanded to know in clipped anger. She didn't meet his eyes, but she could tell that he was probably reeling in shock. He said nothing for a moment.

"How did you – dammit. Richard," he muttered quietly, before sighing. Eli continued to stare at the floor. "She didn't seem to… I was worried that he liked her more than she liked him. I could tell, and I didn't want Char to get hurt," he explained simply. "I thought she was using him – and I was right. I saw her on Christian Thompson-Rupert's arm earlier, I know it's hard to understand, Eli, but she was only using Char," he continued gently, taking her hands tightly in his.

"No!" she cried angrily, pulling her hands away from him and standing up immediately, stepping away from him in haste, her eyes burning with anger. "No! Jay's not like that – you _cruel_ bastard! How could to do that to my sister?" she questioned incredulously.

"She didn't care for him, I knew he was just another open wallet to her!" he insisted. "I didn't see the point of their relationship! It was a lie!" he continued.

"What, like _ours_ is completely honest?" she retorted furiously, unable to find words to fit her anger, she was just radiating rage. "How could you be so – so arrogant? You cut my sister open and let her bleed, and you did the same to your friend! Your _friend_!" she cried angrily. "I can't believe I was so blind! I should have known all along! I thought it was just Clare, but it was _you_! You did this to my sister!" she continued, backing away from him with a hatred she could feel running through her veins.

"No, Eli, you don't understand –"

"I understand perfectly well!"

"I did it because I love you!" he cried finally. Eli stepped back in shock, feeling tears rise to her wide eyes. He took a deep breath, as if he had been punched in the belly. "I couldn't stand seeing your mother throw boys at you, I knew that if Jay was single she'd focus on her, not you, and let you pick me without being forced to," he explained quietly. "Your sister was in the way, I didn't mean to hurt her, but I doubt that I did. She never cared, and she was the reason that you were being treated like crap!" he tried to assure her, attempting a step forwards.

"No. No. _No_!"

"I did it for _us_, Elizabeth, I did it so we could be together! It was the only way!" he insisted, but Eli only shook her head, backing away further from him.

"She hates me because of what _you_ did!" she cried tearfully.

"I love you! I love you and I did it because someone had to do it!" he assured her. "_Everything_ I did was because I love you, the singing lessons, Jay and Char, the engagement, the –"

"_You_ were behind the engagement?" she exclaimed in complete shock.

"I knew that you just needed time and a little push to feel the same way," he murmured simply, a pained expression crossing his face.

"You separated my sister from the guy she might have loved, you nearly destroyed me with singing lessons that consisted of _you_ yelling at me, and you forced me into an engagement that cost me my _father_?" she questioned softly, her tone filled with anger but so very, very delicate. She raised her head to meet his eyes with her tear-filled ones. "You have no idea what you've cost me," she murmured finally.

"Eli, none of this matters anymore! I love you and you love me and we can be together!" he rationalised, attempting another step forwards. "We can get married as soon as school is over and move to Pemberley, none of this will matter anymore, and we can escape your ridiculous family and have one of our own, we can forget all about Rosings Park and what it's done to us," he tried to convince her.

"You cost me _everything_! You took away my father because he thought that I wanted this! You took away my freedom!" she cried angrily, clenching her hands into tight fists. "You took away everything that was important to me! You broke Jay, you made her cry and now she won't act like she did before, you made me go through _hell_, how could you ever do that and claim you love me?" she questioned with uncontrollable rage. Tears streamed freely from her dark eyes, and all she wanted to do was close them so she never had to see him again.

"Eli, I did it because I know that we belong together!" he objected.

"Get away from me! Get away from me and my family and my life – I will _never_ marry you! I'm sick of being used, I won't let you take away my freedom!" she cried finally. "Get out! Get _out!_" she continued, running instantly to the door of her dressing room, and wrenched it open. "I never want to see you again – you bastard! You make me sick! Everything you've done to me, to my family, to _Gershom_ – you're the _last man_ I could _ever_ marry!" she finished, refusing to look up and see his face.

"I love you."

"Get out," she demanded finally, hazarding a slight glance up. The site of his completely heartbroken expression practically tore her in two, but she knew that it was the only way. She couldn't love a man that had knowingly caused her, and her family so much pain.

"Please, don't –"

"Get _out_!" she cried angrily. Hiding angry tears, he slipped out of the room in silence, Eli slamming the door loudly behind him. She fell to the floor with a choked sob, running a hand through her dark curls.

So… she loved him, and he loved her.

"It's not supposed to be this hard," she murmured quietly to herself.

~ * ~

Eli had never performed better in her life, than when she performed to illustrate the sorrow of Christine Daaé as she was forced to choose between her two lives, the seductive power of music, or the boring security of a husband. Before that night, she had known that she would choose music, no matter the consequences, but she couldn't choose Darcy. If he was the music, then she would rather be deaf.

She swallowed tears in the final scene as she watched Darcy sing '_Masquerade_' in a soft, broken voice as he stared at the little music box. She could feel the sorrow of the Phantom, he had just said goodbye to the woman he loved above all else, he had just lost what was the most important thing in the world to him. She could understand his sorrow.

She always hated the scene where Christine would give her engagement ring back to the Phantom, and walk away, into the arms of Raoul. She had always wanted her to go to the Phantom, to the one she truly belonged to. She hadn't been looking forward to the scene, but it had suddenly become the most important part of the entire night to her.

"Elizabeth…" she heard him whisper softly. "_I love you_," he sung with quiet, delicate desperation. She stepped forwards, and took his hand, pressing the ring into his palm, before turning, and leaving the scene.

Darcy couldn't have acted that scene better. The final scene of _The Phantom of the Opera_ was spoken about for years later at the school, how touching and heartbreaking it was, how it brought over half the audience to tears.

His tears and choked sob wasn't faked when he looked to his palm to see the ring lying in it – because it wasn't the cheap little prop that had been used in the performance.

It was the engagement ring he had given Elizabeth. And she had returned it.

"_It's over now, the music of the night_!" he cried in the manner of a wounded animal, his heart quite literally breaking in two.

He had lost her.

**A/N: Wow, REALLY long chapter! So this is it! The moment you've been waiting for! Whooo hoooo! Please review, tell me what you thought!**


	29. Of Letters and more Confessions

"_What does it mean, what does it mean,_

_What does it mean to be so sad?_

_When someone you love, someone you love,_

_Someone you love is supposed to make you happy,_

_What do you do? How do you keep love alive?_"

-Ryan Adams and The Cardinals, 'How do you keep love alive'

Eli ran through the wings with tears streaming down her face, unsure of where she was running, unsure of what she was doing, all she knew was that it was over, it was all over – everything was gone. She had no idea what she was going to do, could she even stay in England? Could she put herself through it?

"Eli? What's wrong?" a wonderfully familiar voice questioned as Llewellyn stepped into the hall. She didn't care if it was awkward, she practically threw herself at him, pressing her head into his chest and clumsily hugging his middle. Llewellyn stiffened slightly but instantly returned her hold, one hand resting on the side of her shoulder, the other softly smoothing her hair back in a comforting gesture. "Hey… it's alright, cariad. Whatever it is, it's going to be okay," he assured her gently. She shook her head against his chest, feeling very much the child, but she didn't care, because he was warm and comforting and kind and _there_.

"I gave him back his ring."

"That was in the script, cariad."

"N – no, I gave W – Will back his e – engagement ring," she stammered softly. "I switched them a – and I gave the ring he g – gave me back," she explained, her voice choked and words pieced together clumsily.

"Why, Eli? I thought things were going well with him?" he questioned in soft confusion.

"He s – separated my sister and C – Char, and he – he was behind the whole engagement," she wept.

"Oh God…"

"He said he loved me! He said he loved me and I love him too – but I _can't_!" she cried against her teacher's chest. "B – Because of him Jay's changed, and Dorr hates me, he took away the only family I had! He took it away because he was so fucking _jealous_!" she continued, growing angered.

"Howl, I – Eli?" came a questioning interruption, but Eli didn't turn her head.

"Now probably isn't the time, Toni," he murmured quietly.

"No! Don't go," Eli begged the young woman, pulling away from Llewellyn to meet Toni's confused gaze. "I – I ended everything with Darcy," she murmured softly.

"Aw, babe," Toni crooned, instantly pulling her into a comforting embrace. "That's okay. That's fine, hun," she assured her softly.

"I'm in love with him," she practically sniffled.

"That's fine too," Toni replied softly. Llewellyn sighed, and wrapped an arm around the older woman's waist, placing a hand on Eli's shoulder.

"I – it _hurts_!" Eli managed to get out, between sobs. "I love him – b – but I can't be with him! He hurt me so much!" she wept.

"It comes in waves, hun. This is the first wave – it gets easier," Toni promised quietly. "It doesn't really stop hurting, but it gets better. It gets better, I swear," she continued honestly. She met her lover's eyes in silence; they were filled with apology and regret.

"Sometimes… when you love someone, you can't be with them. There are obstacles standing in the way, and they don't make the loss easier, but you accept it," he murmured gently.

"It's not fair."

"No," Llewellyn agreed simply. "No, it's not fair. Love very rarely is."

Emilia and George said nothing after Llewellyn muttered a brief explanation to them about ten minutes later. Eli sat on Toni's lap in a large armchair in the teachers lounge as the older woman softly smoothed back her hair.

"It could be best that Eli spends the night at your place, Emilia," he suggested calmly, turning to the young girl, who was looking at her friend with an expression of deep sorrow and anger. He knew that anger was aimed at Darcy, and he would receive hell when he inevitably turned up, begging forgiveness.

"Em's spending the night at my apartment, Eli can come too," George agreed almost instantly. "I can tell the parents that the girls will be at mine, if you want," he offered. Llewellyn nodded.

"That's for the best. I think she… needs a little time," he muttered, glancing over to the two women he had grown to care for the most in the world. He'd felt an indescribable ache in his chest when Eli explained her situation, he felt like… like a father that had just been told a boy broke his daughter's heart. Yes, Eli was like a daughter to him, he realised with little surprise. That thought pleased him somehow. He would love to have a daughter as wonderful as Elizabeth Bennett.

"I'm going to kill him," Emilia swore, her tone quite calm and rational. "I'm going to rip his balls off and make him eat them. I'll kill him," she decided firmly.

"There's a line for that," George muttered quietly, before pulling open the door to go find Eli's parents. He stopped.

"Let me see her."

Eli visibly tensed when she heard Darcy's voice from the hallway, but Toni quickly shushed her by tightening her mothering embrace.

"We've been friends for a long time, Darcy, but that's not going to stop me from punching your lights out," George swore angrily.

"Let me kill him!" Emilia begged from behind, but George pushed her back with one hand.

"Let me see her!" Darcy demanded, growing increasingly angry.

"Please, just make him go away," Eli begged tearfully.

"I need to see her! I need to talk to her!"

"Don't test me, Darcy!"

"Let me kill him! _Please_! It'll feel _so_ good!"

"Just get him away from her, she's upset!"

"_I need to see her_!"

"She doesn't want to talk to you!"

"I need to –"

"A word, Darcy. Outside," Llewellyn demanded finally, breaking the squabble of angry voices. He strode out of the room, and slammed the door to a close behind him.

"Howl, you have _no right_ to take her –"

"If you weren't my student I would have punched you in the jaw by now Darcy, so don't you _dare_ try my patience," he snapped angrily, silencing the younger boy's words. Llewellyn's eyes flashed with protectiveness and a rage that he rarely felt. "There are no excuses for what you've done to her!" he cried.

"I didn't mean to hurt Jay," Darcy muttered honestly in response, running a hand through his dark mop of hair.

"I'm talking about the engagement! You went out of your way to make sure that she had no other options than to go through with this!" he argued. Darcy said nothing. "You _knew_ that she didn't want to get married – what sixteen year old girl wants to be forced into an arranged marriage?" he questioned incredulously.

"It wasn't – no one could drag her to the alter and force her to say 'I do'. It wasn't 'forced'," he muttered bitterly beneath his breath.

"It was as good as that! And you did it against her will!" Llewellyn argued, finding it rather difficult not to throw a good punch into the boy's eye.

"There is _nothing_ you can say to me right now that's going to make me feel any worse – so you're wasting your breath!" Darcy cried suddenly, his pale eyes filling with tears that would never be spent. "She's the only thing that's kept me alive these past few months, she's my whole world – I'd burn my instruments and never play another note again for her if she asked, and she never wants to see me again!" he continued angrily, his face pale, his tone heavy with sorrow. "I love her more than I've ever loved anyone, and I _need_ to see her. I need to apologise!" he demanded.

"No," Llewellyn answered hoarsely. "No. It's too soon."

"She could leave the country and I'd never get another chance."

"Don't you _dare_ stand in front of that girl and break her heart again," he threatened angrily. "Get out of here. Go home, no one in that room wants to see you right now," he muttered finally.

"You don't have the right –"

"I told her that I would protect her to the best of my ability, and that's what I'm doing," Llewellyn argued the moment that Darcy had opened his mouth. "Let her be. Just – give her time," he requested.

Darcy choked back a sob as he looked at the closed door that separated him from Elizabeth. He nodded, and ran a hand through his hair.

"T – Tell her that I'm sorry," he murmured quietly, before leaving the hallway. Llewellyn sighed as he watched him go.

He knew that the feelings that plagued William Darcy were more than just teenage angst.

~ * ~

"Hey," George greeted Eli with a soft smile. She slowly stepped towards the kitchen, her eyes puffy from crying. "I can see that Emilia introduced you to my wardrobe," he chuckled, taking in the tee shirt she wore that went down to her knees, and had completely swallowed up her hands.

"Yeah, umm… I hope that's okay," she muttered in response.

"That's quite alright, it looks better on you than it ever did on me," he chuckled. "She just left for school. You're welcome to stay as long as you want though," he added with another comforting smile, pouring hot, steaming tea into two mugs.

"Thanks," was her quiet answer.

"I thought you might like to talk a bit about it," he offered. She raised her head, and met his eyes questioningly. "Howl suggested that I talk to you, share some experiences. He's not ready to explain his situation," he informed her.

"I know he's sick," Eli replied almost instantly. "I've seen him taking pills at school, he always has days off and he comes back looking really horrible, and he's really off and on with Toni. I just don't know what it is," she explained, noting his surprise.

"I can't tell you. And please don't ask him – I know he's not ready to tell you yet," he requested. She sighed, and nodded, accepting the cup of tea he passed her with a small 'thank you'. "Come on then, the couch awaits us," he announced, taking his own cup, and leading her over to one of the long sofas. They sat down in silence, Eli sipping her tea without a word. "I don't know how it could help, but he suggested that I tell you about Emilia and I," he said softly.

Eli looked up at him in surprise. "I knew there was something," she stated almost instantly.

"Eli, you… you can't tell her, okay?" he pleaded delicately. She nodded firmly. "Please don't think any less of me when I tell you about this, okay?" he requested, and she gave another nod.

"I would never, George. You're like a brother to me," she swore firmly. He gave a little grin.

"And you're like a little sister to me, squirt," he assured her playfully, ruffling her dark brown curls teasingly. "So what does that make Howl then?" he asked curiously.

"Dorr was never really… very fatherly. If I could pick my family, I'd want him as my Dad, Toni as my Mum, and you and Emilia as my siblings," she said thoughtfully. "He'd be a really good father. I – I feel like he's sort of filled in that little gap that Dorr left wanting," she added.

"He'd make an excellent father. I don't know if I should –" he began thoughtfully, before sighing. "Toni had a miscarriage a few months after they first moved in together. She didn't tell Howl she was pregnant, but she thinks he knew anyway. They would have been a pretty good family," he muttered sadly.

"Any kid of Llewellyn's would be very lucky to have him as a Dad," she replied. "God, that's so sad! To lose a baby before you'd even had the chance to – it's not fair," she practically whispered.

"She'd only known for a few days, and she was pretty terrified. She was only eighteen, Eli, the same age as Emilia," George informed her patiently.

"He would have wanted to know," she said firmly. George nodded.

"Yes, but it would have destroyed him. He deserved the chance to mourn for his own child, but I think Antoinette did the right thing by not telling him," he sighed.

"Do you think you're doing the right thing by not telling Emilia how you feel?" she questioned after a brief pause, meeting his eyes with sincerity flashing in hers.

"Eli, I've been in love with Emilia for four years," he murmured quietly.

"Four y – she would have been fourteen!" she exclaimed in shock. He nodded sadly, and leant forwards on the couch, resting his head in his hands.

"I wasn't… sexually attracted to her, if you were worried. She's always been impossibly beautiful, and I knew it was wrong to love her in the way that I did, but I never – I'm not a paedophile," he assured her firmly. "I'd loved her since she was a baby, but I realised I was actually _in love_ with her on her fourteenth birthday. I felt disgusting," he murmured.

"How old were you?" she questioned carefully.

"Twenty-five. I was twenty-five and in love with a child," he admitted with a great deal of self-loathing. "But I didn't want to be in a relationship with her. It was always this… future thing. I loved her then, but I knew that it would be years before I even considered being in a relationship with her. I was content to know that whilst I loved her, I didn't want her to love me that way in return until she was an adult," he murmured.

"So you never wanted to…"

"No. _Never_. She was a child, Eli, and I knew that," he swore. "I'm _not_ a paedophile, and I _never_ had any desire to do anything sexual with her," he added vehemently. Eli nodded.

"I believe you," she replied softly.

"But I knew it was wrong. I went to a psychiatrist, and told him how I felt. He said I wasn't 'in love' with her, I just felt very protective, and brotherly towards her. I tried to believe him," he continued slowly. "She was your age before I… I realised that he was wrong. I still didn't – I was attracted to her, but I knew it was still so wrong that I didn't allow myself to connect my feelings with anything sexual. What I felt – what I _feel_ is wrong, Eli, it's so wrong and I hate that part of myself," he swore firmly, meeting her eyes with a very forlorn expression.

"Do you feel anything… like, I mean…" she murmured, trying to find words.

"Just before her mother died. Three days before the accident I realised that I was… completely in love with her. I was twenty-eight years old and she was seventeen," he answered quietly.

"George, you're being too hard on yourself," she whispered softly, pleading with him to remove the sorrowful expression from his face. "This isn't some sort of Lolita and Humbert thing – you're _not_ a paedophile, you never felt any attraction for her when she was just a kid!" she assured him, taking his hands in hers. He continued to hang his head in shame. "I can _see_ how much you love her every time you look at her, and it's not fair that she doesn't know," she continued softly.

"She would be disgusted, Eli. I can't tell her," George retorted immediately. "The point is – everyone feels things for people that they don't think they should. Love isn't fair, and I think… we have to accept it. Not everyone gets the happy ending," he murmured softly.

"No – George, that's not true. You're going to get your happy ending with Emilia," Eli swore defiantly. A pained flicker passed his eyes at the thought.

"No, Eli, I won't. It's not right," he denied.

"But it _is_!" she declared passionately. "George, you and Emilia are absolutely perfect, you wouldn't be able to live without each other! I love Darcy but it's not _right_ that we be together, not like it is with you and Em," she tried to convince him.

"How do you know, Eli? What if you and Darcy are meant to be together but Emilia and I aren't?" he questioned her insistently. Her eyes fell to her lap, and her grip on his hands loosened. "I'm sorry, Eli, that – I shouldn't have said that," he murmured in quiet apology. She shook her head.

"No… it's just – you and Emilia make each other so happy," she whispered softly, her voice pained and small. "Darcy and I lied to each other from the word go, we hid what we really felt and every move we made was to deceive each other and make sure that we didn't get hurt," she murmured. "It's taken me until now to know that – that it was _wrong_, and that no matter my feelings for him, life can't go on like it did before. You can't live in a lie, and you can't love the liars in it," she finished softly.

George said nothing for a moment.

"If I said 'I'm sorry that you have to go through this' is won't cover it. Words aren't enough to – to make this better," he said quietly.

"It's this… aching. This unbearable aching that I think might just kill me if I let it," was her soft response. She blinked away tears, and gave a small laugh at herself. "I never knew that I was capable of loving someone like I loved him. I think I've always loved him. I didn't leave because of _him_, I didn't resist the engagement as much as I could have because it was always going to be him that I was leaving," she explained, tears sliding slowly over her pale cheeks, her lips curved into a smile as she thought of every second with him that she had been truly happy. "I've become someone that I don't even know anymore, crying over a boy. But he's hurt me more than I could ever imagine, and I loved him more than I ever thought anyone could. I still love him – I don't think I'll ever stop," she whispered softly, her smile flickering from her lips.

"But you don't want to be with him," George stated slowly.

"I do. I really do. But I can't," she murmured, with a lithe shrug. She laughed bitterly, and shook her head. "No, I can't spend the rest of my life with a man who sees me as nothing more than a possession that needs to be won and insured at the expense of others. My family deserve better than what he's done to them," she answered simply.

"Do you think you could forgive him?" he asked carefully.

"I'm not sure," she answered with perfect honesty.

"Do you think you could… let him explain his side of the issue?" he questioned.

"I wouldn't be able to look him in the eye. It's selfish – but I can't put myself through that," was her response.

"Well… I think he knows that, and that's why he wrote it down," George murmured, leaning over and picking something up from the coffee table. It was a plain white envelope that she hadn't noticed when she sat down; _Elizabeth_ written in Darcy's perfectly measured handwriting across the surface. "You don't have to read it. He dropped it off early this morning. I don't know how he worked out you were here, but I guess it was the logical conclusion," he explained.

Eli stared at the envelope in silence.

"Umm… I have to get to work, so that should give you time to read it. Please stay here, I don't want you leaving until Em or I get back, okay?" he requested. She nodded without saying a word. "Listen – you don't have to read that, and you don't have to believe what he's saying or forgive him, the choice is entirely up to you," he murmured, passing the envelope to her. She took it silently. "I'll be back in a few hours. Stay strong, kiddo," he said finally, rising to his feet, and taking their empty mugs to the kitchen. She heard the front door close behind him, but her eyes didn't flicker from the envelope.

So. He had written her a letter.

~ * ~

"_I don't need a better thing, I'd settle for less,  
It's another thing for me, I just have to wander through this world  
Alone…_

_Cos I'm gonna lose you, yes I'm gonna lose you,_

_If I'm gonna lose you, I'll lose you now for good,"_

- Pete Yorn, 'Lose You'

His pen clattered with a thunderous echo as he dropped it on the surface of his desk. The paper was heavy in his hands – heavier than the weight sitting on his shoulders, almost crushing him into the ground. He picked up the envelope – it too was of an incredible weight, slipping it in and closing it in silence. He wrote her name clearly and evenly on the surface, he always wrote her name with well-practised ease.

He stared at the empty space beside her name. He'd always felt, since the moment he met her family, that 'Bennett' didn't belong there. 'Darcy' filled the space with far more perfection than 'Bennett' ever had, but that was the name she chose. It was a horrible realisation that she would never allow herself to be 'Elizabeth Darcy' – she deserved more than that.

'Enough of that' he berated himself, rising from his chair. She had made it perfectly clear that she wanted nothing to do with him – it was high time that he accepted that.

~ * ~

'_You cross the room to me, put a little bit of paper in my hand, then leave  
As the door goes bang, there's a little bit inside me that hopes it is blank  
As the words you wrote are burning,_

_In my head they keep returning, they said;  
Hold me tight, cos I'm losing all the energy to fight'_

-Missy Higgins, 'Hold Me Tight'

Her hands trembled as she slowly unfolded the paper. He had written her a _letter_. A part of her was scared to read it – but she knew that it would just sit there, taunting her until she did. She curled up on the couch, chewing her lip as she began to read.

_Dear Elizabeth, _

_It took me ten minutes and fifteen sheets of paper just to write those two words – and I've decided that I'm just going to… write, I guess. I don't know if you're even going to read this, but if you do, I want it to be as honest as it can possibly be. I haven't really been that honest to you. Which is ironic – because I hate dishonesty more than anything else in the world. _

_I guess I should start with the fact that I'm sorry. I'm sorry about a lot of things. I don't even think I could list them – you'd fall asleep before I had a chance to get halfway through. Mostly I want to apologise for what I put you through. What I did to your family. It wasn't fair and I shouldn't have done it – I shouldn't have told Char to dump Jay, but I couldn't look at them without getting angry. I might be wrong – but it struck me that your sister didn't seem to care for him. And I didn't want Char to be hurt. My jealously was a part of it, I confess, because I couldn't stand seeing your mother throw men at you, but none of my reasons will ever be able to make up for my mistakes. I'm not asking for your forgiveness in this matter – and if you give it, I won't accept it. I shouldn't have done it. _

_My Aunt is a very strange woman. She has shaped Rosings Park to what it is today – it's completely distorted by her old-fashioned ideals. If you drive ten miles out of town it's like you're in another country, but in Rosings Park, people marry young and for money only. I personally hate it here, but until I've finished school, I have no other options than to remain. I never believed that I would marry; I'd grown up thinking that my parent's marriage was one of a kind, that their love was impossible to imitate. Unfortunately, the only way that Georgie and I can get Pemberley back before she turns eighteen is through my marriage. It's an old family rule, a ridiculous family rule, and I had every intention of taking it to court to change it. That is, before I met you. _

_Almost from the very beginning of our acquaintance my Aunt pushed us closer together, and didn't resist her pushing. I'd never met anyone like you, I'd never felt what I felt for you. I had momentarily fancied myself in love with my ex girlfriend, Anne, who I broke up with in the Christmas holidays, but I'd never seen any future with her. But with you I could see us in ten years time, married, living in Pemberley, spending every hour playing music, I'd even thought of names for our children. I loved every little thing about you, and spent every waking hour wishing that you were perhaps a little older, or that you had a different family, and I know that was selfish and stupid, but I can't change it. I didn't see you as suitable, but I knew that I couldn't live without you. I told my Aunt that I wanted to marry you, and that you had feelings for me, because at the time, I arrogantly thought you did. That's what put the engagement into action. _

_I should have stopped it the moment that I realised it wasn't what you wanted. When you told me that you didn't love me, I thought it was a challenge. I selfishly didn't let you go because I didn't think I could live without you, and I arrogantly thought I could make you love me. _

_When we kissed on the balcony at my Aunt's place, I was being stupid and selfish again. I should have stopped when you said you were scared, I shouldn't have kept on going, in fact, I shouldn't have kissed you in the first place. I took advantage of you. I don't think I would have been able to stop, had you let me, I would have done a lot more before you pulled away. I'm so sorry, I knew that you were terrified, but I just – I was so determined to make you feel how I felt. It was wrong, and I'm incredibly sorry. Once again, I'll never ask you to forgive me for forcing myself on you, in terms of the engagement and that night on the balcony, even every other kiss and touch that we ever shared, and I never want you to forgive me – I just don't deserve it. I took advantage of your innocence, and I can only hope that I haven't destroyed it. The point is that I knew what I was doing, I'm not a virgin and you are, but I kept on going. I'm so impossibly sorry._

Eli's cheeks burned as she read that paragraph. That kiss had been haunting her ever since that night on the balcony.

_This letter is getting pretty long, but there's still so much I need to tell you. You asked me not that long ago about what I said to you on the Valentine's Day ball. I was holding you too tightly, remember? I said something to the like of 'I'm sorry, I forgot'. I had forgotten that you weren't mine to hold. I always wanted you to be mine. I wanted you to be a possession, something I could keep by my side always, something I could come home to everyday and something that would kiss me and say 'I love you'. I just never thought it would be someone like you. I saw your family as unsuitable from the very beginning. I felt that your father was too abrasive and didn't give a damn about his children, your mother simply crazy, your twin sisters slutty and Jay a goldigger. I couldn't imagine marrying someone like you._

Eli got to the end of the page, and frowned. It didn't just end like that, did it? She grabbed the envelope and sighed gratefully, there was one more sheet of paper in there for her to read.

_I guess that's just another example of the prick that I've been to you. I'm a monster, plain and simple. I never looked past possessing you, I never… I didn't love you the way you deserved. And for that I apologise._

_I guess…that I still have a lot of explaining to do. You need to understand my reasons behind the engagement, and everything that happened with Gershom Wickham – I heard you mention his name when we were fighting, and I realised that he's probably been filling you with lies since the moment you two met. So I'm just going to tell you what I can, and let you make your own conclusions. _

_I was born in the English countryside to Annabel and William Darcy – my mother was an opera singer and my father a businessman. I loved my parents very much, and my little sister, Georgiana, who was born when I was about seven years old. I grew up pretty secluded from other children, Pemberley is a very large estate surrounded by tenants, farmland and a small town, Lambton. When I was young, the only friend I had, other than my cousins and sister, was Gershom Wickham. His father was my father's Personal Assistant when he was in London, but my father decided that he deserved more than that. He let him slowly start to take over the reigns of one of his smaller companies, dealing in insurance. Gershom and his father moved to Lambton and we saw each other almost every day. I never really liked him, but I was too lonely to care. Our fathers decided that one day we should follow in their footsteps, and they set up the insurance company so we could take over it when we were eighteen. I wasn't thrilled with the prospect, but I went along regardless. _

_Gershom's father passed away when he was twelve. My parents adopted him, took him into our home, but something had changed. I don't know if it was brought on by the death of his father, of if I had always been blind to it, but Gershom started to grow selfish and rude. He would be cruel to Georgie and I, and then smile prettily to my parents. I said nothing, merely protected Georgie from his words because I thought he was grieving. _

_My mother died very suddenly of breast cancer when I was fourteen. A few months after her death, whilst Georgie and I were in Ireland with our Aunt, Uncle and cousins, my father shot himself in the chest. There were no staff in the house, only Gershom. He would have heard the shot, but an ambulance was only called the next morning when the cook arrived. The coroner's report said that he had been lying in pain the whole night, and was still alive when the ambulance arrived, only to die on the way to the hospital. I don't believe that Gershom killed my father, but there is no chance, despite what he said to the police, that he wouldn't have heard the shot, or have seen my father's body before morning. He could have called the ambulance, and my father never would have died. It was common knowledge that Gershom had been put in my father's will to get a ten million pound trust fund after his death. _

_I cut him out of his trust fund and the company. It was bitter, but he had laughingly commented that because he was too busy 'sleeping' (he actually did air quotes) we were both going to be very rich. It confirmed his guilt to me. My father had already paid his fees at Eton, which were transferred over to Rosings when he went to live with a relative. Georgie and I moved to Rosings Park to live with our Aunt after my father's death. I'm not telling you this to evoke pity in you, Elizabeth, but because I should have told you why I don't trust Gershom before. _

It was here that Eli first began to cry. She felt his pain through his words, she could feel his suffering.

_I don't think I can write anymore. Now I just feel pathetic. I love you more than I've ever loved anything on this earth, Elizabeth. You're my angel, my melody, you're everything that's been keeping me alive, but I don't deserve you, not after what I've done. Not after what I've put you and your family through. I'm going to do my best to remove myself from your life, in the hope that it gives you some comfort. Please believe me when I say that despite all the pain I put you through, and all the horrible things I once thought about your family, I love you, and I always will. _

_Yours most apologetically, _

_William Darcy_

She lowered the last page of the letter. It was so beautiful. She reread every word twice, crying all the way through. She was so confused; her mind was in turmoil. He had apologised, he truly loved her, but… what could she do? She wanted to run into his arms and let him kiss all the pain away, but why was it so insanely hard? He'd suffered so much in life but she couldn't grant him the forgiveness that he claimed he didn't want, she couldn't just forget everything he had done to her.

She folded the pages of the letter, and slid them back into the envelope. Pausing, however, she took the last page out, the one that began with his heartfelt apologies for thinking so ill of her, and clutched it to her heart. She would keep it on her person for a few days yet. It would remind her of what a beautiful man William Darcy could be occasionally.

**A/N: Wow, the response from the last chapter was just incredible! I'm sorry to all those people that I made cry, I didn't mean to! I hope you're all okay :D I'm getting a good start on 'The Hill' (which will now contain a few bits and pieces from Sense and Sensibility), but I think there will be a few weeks between 'Love and Other Labels' and its sequel, and I will probably update every third day for a while, because I haven't written a huge amount, and I'm also trying to update another story. This is the best way for me to balance my schoolwork and my writing for the time being. Oh, and I got my exam results back! Thanks for your patience in my updating schedule, I was able to get really fantastic marks, so I'm very happy :D **

**I was asked in a review if I had based Darcy off any particular actor so the reviewer could get a better idea of what he looked like in her mind. Well, sadly no, Darcy is completely of my imagination. However, looking around the web for pictures of people I thought could give her an idea, I found the faces that resembled other characters as best I could. Agyness Deyn was who I based Toni off, and Heidi Mount in the 2009 Chanel photoshoot was Emilia, George is Hugh Dancy and Llewellyn is a younger Ralph Fiennes, with light hair and amber eyes. Jay is Taylor Swift (of whom I am certainly not a fan) - but I guess that is it. Both Darcy and Eli are products of my imagination. In fact, all my characters are, but they slightly resemble the actors and actresses I have named, but if you already have an idea in your head of what they look like, please don't look up the faces, they will probably fall short of your expectations :D**


	30. These Photographs

"_Well I never wanna see you unhappy, _

_I thought you'd want the same for me_

_Goodbye my almost lover, goodbye my hopeless dream, _

_I'm trying not to think about you, can't you just let me be?_

_So long my luckless romance, my back is turned on you,_

_Should have known you'd only bring me heartache,_

_Almost lovers always do,"_

_-_A Fine Frenzy, 'Almost Lover'

"Miss Elisabet? It is time for dinner," Helena announced timidly, poking her head into Eli's bedroom. Eli glanced up from the last page of Darcy's letter, and nodded.

"Thank you, Helena," she murmured quietly, as the maid disappeared. She sighed as she folded the paper and slipped it into her jeans pocket. She'd read over it at least thirty times that day, since she had first received it that morning. She had said very little when she came home, but she knew that everyone was aware of what had happened. Emilia had informed her that it was all over the school, everyone was aware that Elizabeth Bennett and William Darcy were no more. She was grateful for her family's silence, but wary of what it meant.

Dinner was a silent affair. Francie was bitterly stabbing her food, but had the good sense not to comment on the change of situation. Eli ate nothing, her stomach in knots. She wanted nothing more than to just curl up in front of the fire and read Darcy's letter over and over again.

"I'm going to go for a walk," she announced finally, after several minutes of slow, silent torture. She ignored her mother's protests as she stood up, and almost dashed out of the room, and onto the street outside.

She had no idea what to do. Could she bear to go back to school next term, only to see Darcy? She had no reasons to stay. The musical was over, and Darcy was now going to become a distant dream. If dinner was anything to go by, her family life was going to be unbearable. Darcy had been right – her father cared nothing for her, her mother was ridiculous, the twins were just tarts, and Jay, precious Jay, how could she have been so wrong about her? Jay had made it perfectly clear over the past few days that her interests lied in money, not love. What did she have left? George and Emilia, Llewellyn and Toni. They were friends, and they all had their own lives. She couldn't depend on them.

"Eli, come here, please," she heard the clipped voice of her father demand when she walked back into the house after a long, thoughtful stroll. Jay, the twins, Francie and Dorr all sat in the living room, very angry looks on their faces. Eli stared at them in confusion and dread. She slowly stepped into the room, and took a seat in the empty armchair.

"That's mine," she said almost immediately, when she saw the perfect white envelope addressed to her sitting on the coffee table. "How _dare_ you! That's mine! It was in my room!" she cried angrily, dread filling her. Had they read it?

"We want to apologise," Francie stated crisply. Eli blinked in confusion. "We should have listened to you when you said you didn't want to marry Darcy. We didn't know what he was like," she managed to get out, looking rather sheepish.

"What?" Eli questioned doubtfully.

"I can't _believe_ him! What a prick! He called Katie and I sluts!" Lyla cried angrily. A sense of complete and total dread filled Eli's body.

"And he told Char to dump me!" Jay pouted angrily, crossing her arms against her chest. "Not to mention the fact that he called me a _goldigger_," she added bitterly.

"Wait, you don't understand!" Eli cried immediately.

"You should be the most upset out of everyone!" Francie snapped. "And how _dare_ he call us 'unsuitable'! No, I'm very glad you broke up with the little shit," she sniffed.

"Why didn't you tell someone he tried to rape you, you stupid child?" Dorr questioned angrily, his dark eyes flashing. "He described you as a 'possession'. He was using his silly little tricks to get you to come back to him. I've never been more disgusted with another human being," he continued furiously.

"But – but he didn't –"

"The point is that we should have listened when you tried to get out of marrying him," Francie confessed. "Don't worry. We'll pick a _much_ better suitor," she assured her.

"Francine," Dorr murmured dangerously. She pouted, and sighed.

"Oh _fine_."

"Dorr, you don't understand, you didn't read the whole letter, there's another page in my pocket –"

"We read every single word in that envelope, Elizabeth," he informed her without emotion. "I – I shouldn't have let them force you into it. I suppose the boy tricked us all," he muttered bitterly. "We have decided it best that you return to school next term to get your A levels before Oxford," he continued diligently.

Eli wanted to scream in their faces that Darcy wasn't how they thought he was, but what would it achieve? He would avoid her at school, and after, they would probably never see each other again. There was no hope, and no point in arguing for Darcy when it would come to nothing.

"I think I want to go to bed," she murmured softly, feeling a single tear escape.

"Girls, go upstairs. I have one more thing I need to say to Elizabeth," Dorr announced suddenly. Eli sniffled as her mother and sisters left the room in a fit of complaints. "Perhaps I… should not have let things get so out of hand," he murmured sheepishly.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," Eli found herself whispering.

"Did he force you to sleep with him?" Dorr asked uncomfortably. She shook her head firmly. "Good. Do you want to file a police report?"

"No," she answered quietly.

"He could be sent for prison for what he tried to do, you know," he informed her, as if she were an invalid.

"I don't want to," she said, her voice a little louder, and much firmer. Dorr sighed.

"I truly am sorry, Elizabeth," he murmured after a rather awkward pause. "We should have listened to you," he confessed.

"Yes. You should have," she snapped. Her feelings for Darcy didn't change the fact that her parents attempted to force her to marry a man she barely knew against her will.

"Get some rest. You had best stay the rest of the week home from school," he said finally, rising to his feet. Eli nodded as he left the room.

She snatched the letter up immediately and clutched it to her heart, sobbing quietly.

Oh… _everything_ had gone wrong.

~ * ~

"_Whatever happens, we leave it all to chance,  
Another heartache, another failed romance!  
On and on, does anybody know what we are living for?  
The show must go on, the show must go on,  
Outside the dawn is breaking on the stage_

_That holds our final destiny!  
The show must go on!"_

- Moulin Rouge, 'The Show Must Go On'

Dorian Bennett was not a cruel man. He was not a stupid man. He was able to admit that he had perhaps made a mistake, allowing his stupid wife to try to force his daughter to marry a boy that had almost raped her. That letter had made him feel like an idiot.

He stopped outside the living room after he had left his daughter. Her weeping tore at his hidden heart, and guilt filled him. But perhaps it was good. It had obviously weakened her, and it was her strength that he always envied and despised. If she were weak, he could at least control her a little easier. He would have her studying to be a doctor in no time.

Things would go on. Things would continue as they were supposed to. She would get over her sorrow and return to him, and life would be restored to its natural order.

The show would go on.

~ * ~

"_I cannot go to the ocean; I cannot drive the streets at night,_

_I cannot wake up in the morning, without you on my mind,_

_Well so you're gone and I'm haunted – I'll bet you're just fine,_

_Did I make it that easy to walk right in and out of my life?_"

- A Fine Frenzy, 'Almost Lover'

"Elizabeth!"

Darcy's cry filled his bedroom and echoed around the room as he sat up in terror. It was just a dream, he tried to assure himself. Merely a dream. Elizabeth was fine and safe back in Rosings Park, she was in no danger and perfectly happy without him.

He wasn't surprised to find his cheeks damp with tears as he ran a hand over his weary face. Every night he would wake up in tears, dreams of Elizabeth leaving him, of Elizabeth being killed or harmed or taken in by Gershom, who was strangely dressed as Raoul, or scenes of their last few hours together were constantly plaguing his mind. He couldn't get her out of his mind. And he couldn't get the thought of her being happy out of his mind.

He slid out of bed, and crossed the room to the window, staring out on the grounds of his childhood estate. He had spoken with Mrs MacGovery the night after the musical and informed her quite pointedly, that Pemberley _would_ be returned to him. It was a straining (not to mention expensive) week long process, but Pemberley House was finally back in the possession of a Darcy. It was ironic that he had used Pemberley as an excuse to try and convince Eli to marry him, when it was embarrassingly easy to get it back.

He sighed as he stared out at the endless, pristine grounds bathed with softly glowing moonlight. She would have loved Pemberley. He could just see her spending hours in the library, singing in the music rooms, laughing as she and Georgie jumped up and down on the beds. He could imagine her taking long walks through the woods and lazy dips in the pond with him. He wanted so desperately to share his home with her.

He wanted so desperately to share his life with her.

~ * ~

"_All these stars around, let them shine on down,  
Shine all over you, the future isn't planned,  
Now I understand what you are going through  
But have no fear, I am here to hold you,  
And I said that I would protect you from the dark again,  
And I meant it, I promised to catch you if you fall again,"_

-Michelle Featherstone, 'I said'

Howl slammed the door shut with an almighty bang, the frames rattling as the door bounced back wide open. He didn't care. He reached for the first thing he could find, a shoe, and threw it as hard as he possibly could against the wall.

He reached for a book sitting innocently on his bedside table, and pelted it at the door to his bathroom. It landed with a bang and its pages flew everywhere.

"Howl?" came a timid, quiet voice from the doorway.

"I promised that I'd protect her!" he cried furiously, kicking his bedside table, bringing the lamp to the floor with a crash. He was practically trembling with anger. "I _said_ I would help her!" he continued, his voice dangerously loud.

"You can't protect her twenty-four-seven, Howl," Toni tried to assure him, carefully stepping into the room.

"No! Get away from me Antoinette – get _out_!" he demanded instantly. She swallowed nervously.

"No. Howl, please, calm down – what's got you so upset?" she questioned anxiously.

"I just spoke to George. Eli told Emilia that she got a _letter_ from him – he had the audacity to try to contact her! How _dare_ he –"

"Howl, Eli is strong enough to handle this by herself," Toni tried to convince him, feeling tears slide down her pale cheeks.

"He said she looks terrible, and she's back to letting her father boss her around," he snapped. "I _said_ that I was going to help her! I failed her! I should never have made that promise – I can't even work out my _own_ pathetic excuse for a life – I've only brought pain to her!" he continued angrily, grabbing a handful of his hair and tugging on it in frustration.

"Howl, there's only so much you can do! She's strong, she won't –"

"I do _not_ want to discuss this! Get out of here, Antoinette!" he demanded pointedly. She chewed her lip nervously, but was determined not to let him win. It was time that she showed him that she was not something that could be taken lightly. She wasn't a child, and she was sick of him treating her like one! She loved him, and she was always going to be there for him! He had to accept that!

~ * ~

Jay smiled prettily at Christian as she linked her arm in his. He gave a proud grin as he turned to face his parents.

"Jasmine is a wonderful dancer. After her A levels, she's going to start sending out audition tapes to academies," he informed Mister and Mrs Thompson-Ruperts.

"Oh, I'm _sure_ you'll do splendidly, Jasmine," Mrs Thompson-Ruperts assured her.

"Thank you, ma'am. I'm very nervous," she lied, blushing perfectly. She wondered if she should have been an actress. Once more she mentally thanked Clare for all she had taught her – with her new-found 'skills' she could set her sights on men _much_ richer than Char Bingley.

"I say, so what's going on with your sister and young William Darcy?" the older woman questioned conspiratorially. Jay felt the grin slide off her face; she hadn't forgotten that Elizabeth was Christian's first choice.

"Nothing at all, Mrs Thompson-Ruperts. They were never _really_ engaged. Darcy was just very unsuitable for her," she answered simply. The older woman nodded, her eyes sparkling as she took in the sight of the lovely young couple before her.

_That's right_, Jay thought to herself, _congratulate yourself on such a prime match. You're just as stupid as your brainless son, you ridiculous woman_.

~ * ~

"_However cold the wind and rain,  
I'll be there to ease up your pain  
However cruel the mirrors of sin,  
Remember, beauty is found within!_

'..._Forever shall the wolf in me desire the sheep in you_..._'"_

-Nightwish, 'Beauty and the Beast

"No, Howl, I won't leave you alone when you're like this," Toni swore vehemently, tears quickly sliding over her cheeks, her body trembling with determination. They still stood in his bedroom, which was slowly becoming more and more disorganised and damaged with the results of his rage.

"For your own safety, Antoinette, _get out_," he ordered her angrily, running a hand through his light brown hair in agitation.

"I am _not_ afraid of you!" she cried forcefully. Howl gave a bitter laugh, and crossed his arms against his chest.

"That explains the trembling then," he commented cruelly. Toni took a determined step forwards.

"I'm not scared of you, Howl. And I won't go," she swore.

"This is your last chance, Antoinette," he threatened. "You won't like me when I'm angry," he promised.

"I don't care, I've stood by you through the good and the bad, and I won't let one bad mood push me away," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

"You stupid girl, can't you see that this is for your own good? Just get out," he commanded angrily. Toni shook her head.

"No. I love you, Howl, and I won't leave you alone when you're like this."

"You're so naïve. This isn't one of your pathetic fairy tale stories, Antoinette. This is real life. And in real life, beauty stays away from the beast," he spat.

"Howl, do you even remember why you were angry? This isn't you talking – it's just –"

"It's the part of me that you can't love, Antoinette!" he practically roared, sending her a fiery, angry glare. She trembled in fear. "You can't love a monster – and I can't control the days where I turn into one!" he cried furiously.

"I love you Howl! I love every part of you, you aren't a monster! And even if you were I would still love you!" she tried to convince him, taking another wary step forwards.

"You're scared," he observed coolly, with the air of an individual who was well aware that he had the upper hand. "And you should be. I'm bigger than you, I'm stronger than you, and you've crossed me when I'm in a very poor mood," he stated with quiet anger.

"I stand by my decision. I won't leave," she swore with trembling gravity. He smirked almost bitterly.

"You're too stubborn for your own good, Antoinette. But this is not a game," he replied calmly, taking a determined step forwards. Toni unconsciously took a step backwards, but berated herself for it. Squeezing her fists together, she instead moved forwards. "So you're not scared of me, are you? No, you're not scared of me when I'm in a good mood. And you're not frightened when I'm too depressed to get out of bed, but when I'm _angry_, Antoinette, you turn into a little quivering animal," he murmured, taking another step forwards.

"I'm stronger than you think, Howl," she swore firmly, not flinching as he placed his hands on her waist, and pulled her into his chest.

"Then get out now," he whispered in the shell of her ear. He ran his hands across her waist, before sliding them beneath her shirt. "If you're so strong, leave," he dared her.

"Don't play your games with me, Howl," she snapped, holding back a gasp at the feel of his hands on her uncovered skin. "You can't push me away like this," she informed him firmly.

"Oh, is that a challenge?" he murmured, passing his lips over her cheek, across her jaw, before meeting her mouth in an insistent, almost bruising kiss. She shivered, she was used to behaviour that seemed very out of character for him, but she'd never seen him so… well, she didn't even know how to explain it. She found herself being pushed back until she was pressed against the wall.

"N – No," she managed to get out as his lips moved to her neck. "I – it's a fact," she murmured, before gasping. His hand ran down the length of her arm, closing around her wrist as the other hand moved to do the same. He pulled her arms up above her head, her wrists pressed tightly together.

"Antoinette, what you don't like to take into account is that I have complete and total control over you," he whispered in a low, deep voice. "Now get out – because I don't have control of myself," he murmured finally, before pulling away. He slipped out of the room in silence, leaving her to crumple on the floor with tears streaming freely down her cheeks.

_Maybe_, she thought sadly to herself, _I'm not as strong as I thought_.

~ * ~

"So what's the verdict?" George questioned, as the familiar form of Emilia Woodhouse wandered into his kitchen.

"I wagged a few classes to go see her this morning – and don't you dare get stroppy about that –" she began, sending him a warning glance when he looked prepared to scold her, "- and she's still not doing that great. There wasn't any improvement on yesterday," she stated with a sigh, running a hand through her blonde curls. "She's spending a lot of time on her own. I think she's assessing her options," she explained.

"She's not thinking of going back to Australia, is she?" he questioned in surprise. She shrugged.

"I'm not sure. She's got a crap family life, and the guy she's in love with tried to force her to marry him and be miserable," she replied simply, sitting down on a stool before the island bench. "She let me read the letter, you know. Everything but some stuff about Gershom Wickham," she added. "I mean, she told me about it yesterday and everything, but… reading it was just –" she finished, unable to find words. "He's very apologetic. Everything he did was out of love. I don't know if I'd forgive him, but he wasn't asking for it. It's like he'd given up on her ever loving him at all," she tried to explain with a sigh.

"What did it say?"

"He apologised for everything he did to Jay, for trying to force her into the marriage, for thinking poorly of her, oh, and for almost trying to rape her," she answered with a slight snap. George's eyes widened in shock.

"_Darcy_? You – you have to be kidding me!" he exclaimed. She shook her head.

"She explained it to me, and I guess that he wasn't really trying to _rape_ her, but he started making out with her after she found out about the engagement and didn't give her much room to resist," she explained sheepishly. George instantly felt relief flood him. "He started to get a little adventurous with the hands and she pulled away. But she did mention halfway through that she was scared, and he just told her it'll be okay, he didn't stop kissing her or anything," she added.

"That's… stupid, but not that bad. He probably didn't realise how innocent Eli really is," he murmured with a sigh. "What do you think she's going to do?" he questioned. Emilia shrugged.

"I think she still loves him, but it's hard for her. Her whole family hate him, and she has every _reason_ to hate him too, but she can't just click her heels together three times and tell her feelings to go away," she muttered thoughtfully. "I just think that if they could sit down and talk, they'd be able to come to an understanding," she sighed.

"I happen to agree with you there. Howl said something of the like," he replied, making a mental note to ring Howl and see how he was taking things. He had a soft spot for Eli, and probably felt like he had in part caused the pain she was feeling. "It'd be the best thing for her," he rationalised.

"Yeah, but Darcy went back to Pemberley. He threatened to sue the steward or the power of attorney and his argument was too strong for _anyone_ to beat it, so they just folded and gave him back his stuff," she explained. A thoughtful expression crossed her face. "You know, Eli hasn't seen much of England. She's never been north," she commented thoughtfully.

"Oh dear… what are you planning?" George questioned warily.

"How would you like to go on a road-trip these holidays?" she asked him excitedly in return.

"Em, she'll never agree… _he'll_ never agree –"

"We don't have to tell them, stupid-head! We'll stay at Lambton and just casually mention to Darcy over a text or something that we're in the area!" she cried excitedly. "He's too polite to tell us to fuck off, he'd be _bound_ to invite us over for lunch, and we'd bring Eli!" she continued eagerly.

"Emilia, these are people's lives that we're talking about, you have to be realistic," he reminded her patiently. She brushed him off with a wave of her hand.

"It's perfect! They'll be able to sort out their differences and by the time we all come back for exams, they'll be together again!" she stated confidently.

"You seem to be forgetting that you're supposed to be _studying_ for the next two weeks straight," George reminded her.

"I'll study in the car, I promise. It'll be great! And it's _just_ what Eli needs to realise that England is just as beautiful as Australia! She'll never want to go back, and we'll never have to lose her!" she rationalised, her eyes sparkling, her lips stretched into a wide grin.

"As much as I hate your meddling, Em, this might just work," he said thoughtfully. "I mean, I'm not doing anything these holidays anyway, and I know Eli would appreciate some time away from her family," he continued to muse.

"It's brilliant. We'll take my BMW!" she declared brightly.

"Oh no, you just want that as an excuse so you can drive!" he objected. Instantly she gave a pout.

"Come on! I can't drive a stick, and I need the practise!" she begged him. He shook his head in a firm 'no'.

"We'll take my car, and that's final. Now are you sleeping here, or are you going home tonight?" he questioned, moving along.

"I dunno. Maybe I should stay here and help you pack," she proposed thoughtfully.

"Ha! You mean take what you like from my wardrobe! No chance missy, you can leave after we eat," he said firmly. Emilia rolled her eyes, and opened the take out menu drawer.

"So what are you in the mood for?" she asked, flicking through them.

"Ridiculously fatty pizza with extra everything?" he suggested offhandedly.

"Sounds delicious," she replied eagerly, passing him the menu as he picked up the phone.

She couldn't help but smile. She was normally such an adventurous, outgoing girl. But routine was nice. Routine that involved George was always very pleasant.

"What are you grinning at, heathen?" he questioned teasingly, noting her smile.

"Nothing, just… make sure you don't forget the capsicum and mushrooms," she reminded him. He rolled his eyes, and began to dial without another word.

**A/N: A few people have been asking how long this story will be. It's going to go up to thirty-five chapters, plus a short epilogue. I will probably have a two or three week break before I start the sequel, because I want to have a decent amount written before I start posting. I'm thinking three-day intervals between each post, and I'm still taking my break, but hopefully not until I've completed 'The Hill'.**

**Bfly: Llewellyn does admittedly have some difficulty handling his own life, but that because he has no control over his illness and thinks that by pushing others away he's doing the best thing for them. But he **_**is**_** qualified to look out for Eli because he is her friend, she looks up to him and respects him, and she's grown strong enough to know what is good advice and what isn't. He hasn't given her any bad advice, he just thinks he has. You and a few others have commented that Darcy is a 'scapegoat' for Eli's angst, but that simply isn't so. Regardless of how horrible her parents have been to her in the past, Darcy was out of his place and she didn't want to be pulled apart from them. She's so miserable because she cared for someone more than anything else in the world and he betrayed her, teenager or not it hurts to go through that kind of pain. You have to remember that what Darcy did was wrong, and he shouldn't get away with hurting her easily. **


	31. Bittersweet Returns

"_And you'll hold me closer than I can ever remember being held,  
And I'm not afraid to sleep now, if we can stay this way until;  
It's the last day on earth, in my dreams, in my dreams  
It's the end of the world, and you've come back to me,"  
-_Kate Miller Heidke, 'Last Day on Earth'

"This country is very green," Eli commented randomly as she took in the undulating hills of impossibly bright colours. "And you have a lot of cows and sheep, and more cows and oh look! A horsie!" she cried excitedly, practically pressing her face against the glass as they drove past yet another farm.

"We're about a mile out of Coalville, we'll be in Whitwick in a few minutes," George informed her from the driver's seat.

"Coalville?" Eli sneered, rolling her eyes. "I wonder what _that's_ famous for," she muttered sarcastically.

"Can we stop in Melbourne? There's this cute little shop that has the nicest –"

"I'm not stopping so you can go shopping! Back to that maths book, missy!" George scolded Emilia.

"There's a place in here called Melbourne? That's fantastic!" Eli cried excitedly. Emilia turned and raised a questioning eyebrow. "It's the capital of Victoria," she stated blankly. Emilia blinked. "In Australia," she added.

"Oh! Wow, isn't that neat," she laughed in realisation.

"Stop enjoying yourself and start reading!"

"What, or you'll 'turn this car right around and _everyone_ misses out on Disney Land'?" she questioned sarcastically.

"If you don't shutup and start studying, I'm going to put the country music station on," he threatened. Emilia instantly buried her nose in her textbook, and George gave a smug grin as he turned into Whitwick.

"How long have we been driving?" Eli asked tiredly, sinking back into the comfortable car seats.

"Only a few hours. We'll be there soon enough," he informed her patiently.

"Oh! That reminds me, I should text our little friend," Emilia threw in, pulling her mobile out of her pocket.

"Phone goes off, brain goes on!"

"Jeez George, anyone would think that these were _your_ A levels," Emilia retorted dryly.

"Well they certainly wouldn't think they were yours for all the effort you're giving them," he snapped. Emilia rolled her eyes.

"Come on, Eli got her A levels when she was fifteen! How hard can they be?" she questioned simply.

"Thanks, Em."

"Anytime, love."

"Eli got her HSC – they're different," George snapped, keeping his eyes trained on the road. "And she still had to study it, didn't you," he stated, glancing at her in the rear view mirror.

"Oh. Sure George, I studied every waking hour," Eli replied sarcastically.

"See!"

"_Study_!"

"This is no fair," Emilia muttered bitterly.

"Yes. Not fair at all, missing out on all the cows and sheep," Eli retorted, watching endless farmyard animals shoot past her.

"No more talking, or I _will_ turn on the country music station, and we'll all have to suffer," George threatened.

That shut them up pretty quickly.

Eli turned her gaze back out to the window as she slipped her ipod headphones into her ears. She was very grateful to be out of home, what with Dorr returning to his commands for her to study, Francie constantly hinting at eligible young gentlemen that were almost as rich as Darcy, Jay's constant babbling about Christian and Lyla and Katie's new, ridiculously wealthy boyfriends. It was almost unbearable to be there. She had jumped at the chance to go with George and Emilia in a tour of the Peak District, whatever that was, if only to get a small refrain from her family life.

She had allowed herself to be distracted by the tourist sites and George and Emilia's constant bickering, but she couldn't escape the constant replay of every second she and Darcy had spent together. It had been three weeks. A full twenty-one days since she had seen him last, and she had counted every second of it.

"_I want to kiss you. I just don't want you to cry and have a panic attack this time…"_

She winced. That was one of the more painful memories, their first proper kiss together. However, she was always haunted by that night on the balcony, by the way he touched her, the way he made her feel…

"_Everything I did was because I love you, the singing lessons, Jay and Char, the engagement… I love you more than music…"_

She chewed her lip as she tried to get those words from her head. Her hand closed tightly around his letter that sat in her jacket pocket. It had quickly become her security blanket. It was her solace when everyone around her constantly reminded her that he had screwed up completely. They thought they were helping, telling her that Darcy was a horrible prick and didn't deserve her – but that only made things worse. Because she _wanted_ him to be there, sitting beside her, playing with her hair like he always did, making her laugh with his subtle, wicked sense of humour. She couldn't blame him, not as she started to suspect his actions had been completely justified.

"What would you say to him, if he were right in front of you?" Toni had asked a few nights ago, when she, Eli and Emilia went into London to celebrate the end of term. Emilia was busy ordering food at a little Thai place, and the two were sitting down in a corner booth.

"Umm… I'm not sure," she admitted with a shrug. It didn't hurt her to talk about Darcy with Toni. Most others either avoided the topic completely, or spent hours assuring her that he was a prick. But Toni didn't, Toni understood. "I guess… 'I'm sorry too', uh… 'I love you'," she practically whispered, glancing out the large restaurant window onto the busy London street outside. "And… 'please stay'," she murmured finally.

She had half-heartedly thought about sending him a response to the letter. But she didn't know what she would say. She didn't even know if she had forgiven him, she just knew that it hurt to be without him. She didn't want to run into his arms and forget all that had happened, she just… well, she didn't even know _what_ she wanted.

Darcy. That was what she wanted. She wanted Darcy back.

"George, can you buy this place for me?" Emilia asked curiously, staring up at the glorious building that was Chatsworth House, surrounded by endless green grounds and a beautiful glassy lake.

"You said that at the _last_ two houses we went to, Em," George reminded her, rolling his eyes. She pouted.

"But I want to live _here_," she argued.

"No way – you'd get lost too easily," he replied sternly. "What do you think, Eli?" he asked the younger companion, who was gazing up at the house in wonder.

"I think… jeez, this was worth the fifteen pounds for a tour," she replied simply. "It's very beautiful. It's just like a castle," she practically whispered.

"Ha! You wait for the next one, it'll make Chatsworth House look like a small, mouldy cardboard box on the side of the road," Emilia informed her, eyes twinkling teasingly.

"Make sure that you call ahead, Em, we aren't going in unannounced," George reminded her sternly. She rolled her eyes, and pulled her iphone out of her pocket.

"Rightyo, Master and Commander," she retorted, stepping away from the rest of the tour group to make the call.

"Isn't it getting a bit late to go to another house? It'll be sunset in a few hours," Eli pointed out. George shrugged, a small, secretive smile playing on his lips.

"Oh, I think we'll be quite welcome there, no matter the hour," he replied casually. Eli frowned, fully aware that something was going on.

"Okay, do you _want_ me to do the creepy gifted-kid thing and work out what's going on, or are you going to tell me?" she asked, crossing her arms against her chest and glaring at him accusingly, one sculpted brow raised questioningly.

"We're going to go see someone that Em and I have known for a long time, that's all," he assured her. Still not convinced, she sent him another glare. "Eli, I can't tell you. Just try to be patient," he requested of her.

"Fine, but I'm not a particularly patient person," she warned him. He chuckled, and nodded.

"I'll take that into account. Come on then, you'll love the marble room in this place," he assured her, pushing her back into the line of eager tourists.

~ * ~

Darcy slowly slid his mobile back into his pocket.

"_She's been missing you. I know she wants to see you – she doesn't know you'll be there, but I think it's the best thing for her_," Emilia had explained to him.

So… Elizabeth was coming. He would be able to see her again. To speak to her. He swallowed nervously, his palms already sweating at the thought. He knew she had received his letter, but he didn't know how she had reacted. He'd felt an unquenchable desire to explain his side of the story, but he knew that he shouldn't have done it. He shouldn't have put her through any unnecessary pain. And now she was coming to Pemberley…

He stepped out of the music room instantly, and started down the hall. He spotted Mrs Reynolds almost instantly, the house keeper that had practically raised him so many years before.

"Mrs Reynolds? Would you be able to speak to the cook and the maids and arrange a few things for me?" he questioned, approaching the woman. She gave him a warm, mothering smile.

"Of course, William. What did you wish for?" she asked in return.

"Some friends are going to be coming around in about an hour, they'll most likely stay for dinner, and I'd like to coerce them into staying the night," he explained. One of the women's brows rose in curiosity. "There will be two young ladies and one gentleman arriving; George Knightley and Emilia Woodhouse will be two of the three. The youngest lady is allergic to peanuts," he informed her dutifully. "I'd like it… if they could all get a taste of what Pemberley really is," he added, a tiny smile creeping onto his features. The woman matched his smile.

"Of course, William," she replied with a nod. "I'll get some maids to clean up a few rooms for them, and speak to the cook about dinner," she assured him instantly. "If you'd really like to impress your friends, I'd suggest that dinner be served on the ballroom balcony," she advised. William grinned.

"I think you're quite right. That will be perfect," he responded thankfully. "I'll be with Georgie, the moment that they arrive, please tell me," he requested. Mrs Reynolds nodded, trying to conceal her grin.

"Of course, Master William. The very second," she assured him, allowing the young man to practically race off to his sister's room, a grin playing on his features.

She resisted the urge to chuckle. So, she was _finally_ going to be able to meet the girl that had stolen her young Master's heart.

~ * ~

"Has anyone else noticed the huge amounts of trees?" Eli commented randomly, watching fir after fir speed past.

"The grounds are approximately the size of Australia, Eli. The woods here go on for_ever_," Emilia retorted from the front seat.

"Australia is about fifty times the size of England, and _keep studying_!" George snapped from the front seat. Emilia rolled her eyes, and pulled her Society and Culture textbook up into her line of vision once more.

"So how big is this place?" Eli asked curiously.

"Absolutely huge. The grounds are extremely expansive, most of them are woodland, but there's about twenty hectares of very green grass, ponds, pools, archery grounds, horse trails, gardens, courtyards, everything," he informed her. "And all the farms around here are part of the estate too. The farmers don't pay rent, just a percentage of their profits, so if they fall on hard times, they aren't scraping up every penny they can get to keep afloat," he explained.

"Well that's nice of the owner, and my mind doesn't work in hectares. What's that in acres?" she questioned curiously.

"Umm… about fifty, I think?" he answered.

"Wow. That's a lot," she murmured thoughtfully. "And the trees and farmland? How much property is it altogether?" asked curiously.

"God… hundreds. It's one of the biggest properties in the UK," was his response.

"So the owners are rich then?" she inquired.

"_Very_."

"Meh. Maybe with all that money he should buy some gum trees, this place is lacking them," she sighed.

"The climate is all wrong for Australian natives, I'm afraid," George answered.

"Well, if he's so rich he should buy the sun and move it a little closer to England!" Eli deduced simply, casting her eyes back out to the afternoon sky. "So how much longer do we have to drive till we get to the – oh my _God_…" she whispered breathlessly, when the house came into view as they reached an impossibly large pair of cast-iron gates, boating some sort of family crest that had two unicorns and a swan, some sort of curled Latin script winding around them.

But it was what was behind the gates that was of the greatest interest to Eli.

It was, to put it simply, a palace. It reminded her of the Catherine Palace, and to a small degree the Palace of Versailles, but it had definite Norman influences and small hints towards some Gothic architecture. In a similar style to the Taj Mahal, it had a huge pool before the building that was covered with pink and white lilies, white swans floating across the surface.

The house itself was colossal in size. It was far longer than it was tall, with three stories and a flat roof, it almost looked like a big rectangle block that someone had placed on the ground, but somehow, it seemed to belong to the land that it sat on. It was a part of the scene. And it was impossibly beautiful.

"Oh… my… _God_…" she murmured softly as they drove through the gates, and up a white pebbled drive that wound around the front pool. Behind the house she could see w pristine white courtyard, a maze, a _huge_ pond, gardens, and acres of brilliantly green grass. It was paradise. It was like she had just walked into heaven.

"Every time I see it I think it doubles in prettiness," Emilia commented with a sigh as she took in the beautiful paradise.

"Screw Australia. I _never_ want to leave this place," Eli gasped as they came closer and closer to the house.

"Eli, I think we should tell you this before you find out on your own," George began slowly.

"Umm… please don't kill us," Emilia requested pleadingly. Eli raised an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about?" she questioned in confusion.

"This house… well, it's one of those old places, you know, with a name and all that," she explained awkwardly. "And this one is called… Pemberley," she murmured finally.

Eli's face drained of all colour.

"Pemberley. As in Pemberley House. As in, _Pemberley House_, owned by William Darcy?" she exclaimed in incredulous anger. Emilia nodded.

"That would be it," she answered soberly.

"We called ahead, he knows that we're coming," George informed her quietly.

"Oh, that's lovely, you told _him_, but you didn't have the decency to tell me!" she cried angrily. "How could you do this to me?" she questioned in complete and total disbelief.

"We know you want to see him, Eli," Emilia murmured softly, her eyes wide and apologetic.

"I'm not _ready_ to see him!" she responded almost breathlessly, running a hand nervously through her dark curls.

"Do you want me to turn around?" George asked her carefully. She shook her head.

"No – just… I want to see him," was her quiet answer. "But you can't just – organise my life like that. Not like Francie and Headmistress du Bourg and Darcy did," she added bitterly.

"We're sorry, Eli," Emilia replied. "We just really thought that… I'm so sorry," she murmured apologetically. Eli took her hand and squeezed it softly as the car came to a halt.

"It's okay. Please tell me next time, I'm not as fragile as you think," she requested. Emilia nodded, and grinned.

"Come on then, let's go trespass on his hospitality," she said eagerly, practically jumping out of the car.

Eli was filled with complete and total dread, and a hint of anticipation as she got out of the car. George gave her a small, comforting hug before they started up the half a dozen steps leading to the large mahogany front door. Before Emilia even had a chance to ring the bell, they were pulled open by a plump and unfamiliar woman with a very pleasant smile on her aged face.

"Are they here? Are they here?" came an excited squeal as a small girl with a head full of very thick, tight chocolate brown curls that were close to being frizzy, and wide brown eyes shining with excitement peaked from behind the form of the older woman. She giggled as she spotted the guests, before disappearing again.

"Mrs Reynolds, it's a pleasure to see you again," George greeted the woman cheerfully.

"George, Emilia, oh, it's been too long!" she exclaimed, instantly pulling them into a welcoming hug. "Come in then, all of you!" she urged them instantly. Eli followed closely behind George as they stepped into the entrance hall. It was quite large, with a highly polished black and white chessboard granite floor, and a large grand staircase leading to the first floor with a long red carpet spread over it.

Despite the room's size and grandeur, it actually looked like a house that was lived in everyday. It was beautifully decorated, the ceiling was painted in a gorgeous fresco and the walls had beautiful story-telling moulding stretching up to the roof, and a beautiful crystal chandelier hung down illuminating the room, but it just had an air of hominess to it. It wasn't like anything in Rosings Park, where almost every house was over-the-top and gaudy, it was very sophisticated and elegant.

But Eli wasn't really focused on the architecture – her eyes were caught on a figure descending the stairs.

He looked just as beautiful as ever before, in a pair of light grey skinny jeans, a white Oxford shirt that was untucked and unbuttoned in a few places, and a chunky dark blue cardigan that had been rolled up at the sleaves. Over his chin and jaw was growing a bit of dark stubble, and he looked tired, but so, _so_ beautiful.

"Will! They're here!" the young girl cried excitedly, rushing to him eagerly. He smiled and laughed as he picked the girl up, resting her on his hip as if she weighed nothing more than a teddy bear. She wound her arms around his neck and giggled as he approached them.

"It's good to see you, Darcy," George began, breaking through the awkwardness. His tone was still a little bit clipped, he had not fully forgiven him for causing Eli pain, but he was obviously trying.

"George! Remember me?" the little girl asked eagerly, climbing out of Darcy's arms.

"Of course I do, squirt. Have you missed me?" he asked her pleasantly, bending down to her eyelevel.

"Very, very much! I missed you too, Emi!" she informed them excitedly, instantly latching onto Emilia's leg in a tight squeeze.

"Aw, I missed you too Georgie," Emilia laughed, patting the young girl's hair affectionately.

"Georgie, this is Elizabeth, the girl I told you about," Darcy informed the little girl, who was apparently called Georgie. He met her eyes nervously, and Eli chewed her lip as a response. She gave him a tiny smile, and he returned with his own.

"She's so pretty," Georgie whispered breathlessly to her brother. He chuckled, and nodded, taking her hand.

Eli resisted the urge to curse Clare aloud, despite being so many miles away from her. _Clearly_ Georgie and Char had never been going out – it was all a lie to separate Jay from Char.

"Come on, like Mummy used to show you," he advised, urging her forwards. Eli grinned, and looked down at the young child, whose head came up a bit higher than her waist. She was tall for her age (Eli guessed it around ten or eleven), and looked like she was only going to get taller.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," the girl declared, measuring out her words carefully, and, gripping the hem of her skirt, she gave a small curtsey. Eli resisted the urge to giggle.

"And I you, Miss Georgie. You must be the Princess of this wonderful castle," she replied, giving her own bow in response. The girl's eyes widened.

"Oh, yes I am! Will calls me his little Princess!" she cried excitedly. "And he's the king of all of Pemberley!" she added eagerly.

"Really? Wow, what a wonderful kingdom," Eli commented with a grin. The girl instantly held out her arms in a plea to be held. Eli laughed, and picked her up. Georgie's small, childlike hands went instantly to her mouth. Eli grinned against her fingers.

"You talk funny," she murmured.

"I come from a far off land where everyone talks like this," she answered laughingly, her words slightly muffled by the younger girl's fingers.

"Georgie, that's not polite," Darcy said sternly.

"It's fine," Eli assured him, meeting his eyes. Her words died in her throat, and she swallowed rather obviously, unable to look away.

"Do you speak a different language there?" Georgie asked curiously.

"Uhh… most of us speak English there, but I can speak French and a little bit of Italian," she informed her simply.

"Will you be my sister? I haven't got one, you see, and I want one," she requested very factually. Eli laughed, and noticed out of the corner of her eye that Darcy's face was burning red.

"Of course I will be. I have three sisters, but no brother. It must be very nice to have a brother," she responded pleasantly.

"Oh yes, yes it is! He's lovely," she grinned broadly.

"Georgie, you should get down now, Elizabeth can't carry you forever," Darcy reminded his sister patiently. She pouted, but jumped back down to the ground, and immediately grabbed Eli's hand.

"Come on! I wanna show you _everything_!" Georgie cried instantly, tugging her through the hall.

"Georgie, be careful!" Darcy said sternly, but Eli only laughed.

"She's fine," she murmured, once more meeting his eyes. The laughter died from her eyes, and she began chewing her lip. Georgie reluctantly let go of her arm, and instead moved to trying to 'borrow' George's beanie. "So…" she began slowly, meeting his intense gaze.

"H – how are you?" he asked carefully. George and Emilia immediately began to shuffle off and give them their 'space', pulling a rather annoyed Georgie along with them.

"I… I'm okay, I guess," was her shrugged response. "Y – your home is really beautiful," she commented.

"Oh, yes… I spoke to my lawyer and threatened to sue the steward of the estate, Georgie and I moved in about two weeks ago," he explained quietly. Eli nodded slowly. She could understand why he would want to force her into a marriage, if it was just to get Pemberley. She had only seen the front of it and the entrance hall, but she couldn't imagine a more beautiful place to grow up in.

"I – I guess we should…" she muttered, gesturing back towards the fleeting party.

"Oh! Yes, that would probably… be… best…" Darcy replied awkwardly, running a hand through his dark hair. He really didn't look very good at all. He was much paler than usual, there were very dark purple bags beneath his eyes, which had lost their usual gleam, and he looked as if he hadn't been eating very much at all in the three weeks since she had seen him. And mysteriously, his hands were covered with bandaids and scratches.

But she wasn't one to talk. She too had been barely eating, barely sleeping, and her skin was even paler than usual. She'd spent most of her time sitting alone, listening to _The Phantom of the Opera_ and reading his letter. She hadn't sung a note since the night of the musical.

"Will! Come _on_, you're so _sloooooow_!" Georgie called back to her brother, before exploding into a peal of giggled. Darcy gave a small chuckle.

"I'm coming, oh-spoilt-one," he informed her dutifully, with a mocking bow, before inviting Eli to walk alongside him as they toured the magnificent house.

Eli had never seen a more beautiful place. They passed through room after room, and surprisingly, each room seemed to have a purpose, a need. It wasn't all terribly stuffy and ridiculously over the top, it was a home, and a sense of family was oozing from the walls.

"Georgie and I stay in the main part of the house, the East Wing is where the servants live, and the West is open for tourists to see," he explained to her, as they were walking down one of the endless halls. "There's a marble gallery and a portrait gallery, as well as one of my more eccentric ancestors butterfly collection. But after exams are finished I'm going to do a little renovation in some of the unused rooms, there's a second ballroom in there that hasn't been touched, so I was going to turn it into a holiday performing arts school," he explained, as he pulled open a door leading into the west wing.

"That's a good idea, you know," Emilia commented in surprise. "What kind of stuff are you looking at?" she questioned curiously.

"Mostly music – but also dance and theatre," he answered with a shrug. "I'll be able to teach some of the music classes, but I'll obviously have to hire some professionals. Llewellyn, if he's not busy. I might even expand it to art and see if Antoinette wants to teach a bit," he added thoughtfully.

"And he said he's going to teach me _all_ the instruments he can play!" Georgie added excitedly. He chuckled.

"Just as soon as we can find a pink violin," he assured her. She instantly beamed. "Come on then, I'll show you the galleries," he announced, leading them through another door.

Eli felt like her jaw had been scraping the ground since she had arrived. _Everything_ was just so perfect and wonderful.

"Can we touch the velvet rope?" George asked curiously as they walked into a very large, open-space room with the same granite chessboard floor as the entrance hall.

"Do you value your life?" Emilia threw back teasingly. Darcy rolled his eyes.

"You can string it around your neck like a boa for all I care, George," he retorted.

But Eli didn't hear their bickering. She was looking at the paintings. They were all huge, with heavy gilded frames and intense detail, but she could actually _see_ Darcy's features in so many different faces. And his eyes… they all seemed to have his brilliant eyes.

She stopped when she found one portrait, dated almost two hundred years ago. It was of a very beautiful young woman sitting on a beautiful outdoor chaise in some sort of greenhouse, a young boy of no more than four years sitting beside her, a mop of dark hair curling around his face, and a baby girl with barely any hair at all, and big, dark, innocent eyes. Behind the woman was a man who looked to be in his early thirties, perhaps, with dark hair to match his son, his head turned slightly to regard the young woman and her children with almost tangible love.

"Her name was Elizabeth too," she heard Darcy murmur from behind her. She shivered, and turned to face him. He was staring up at the painting in silence. "The boy was William, and the little girl Anna. The father was Fitzwilliam," he informed her factually.

"It's nice. The man – Fitzwilliam, he seems very similar to you," she commented. He shrugged.

"All Darcy men seem to look identical to each other. It's very odd," he replied. She chewed her lip in thought. "This one is my favourite too," he informed her after a short pause.

"Really?"

"It proves that Darcy men aren't incapable of showing affection towards another human being," he teased. She rolled her eyes, grinned, and headed back to the group.

She couldn't help but be in awe, of both Darcy's home and Darcy himself. He just seemed… changed. He was so pleasant and open with his little sister, but there was something in his eyes – it was almost as if a part of him had died. She barely recognised him, and she didn't know if it was good or bad.

"Will! Will it's _sunset_!" Georgie said eagerly, as Darcy was showing them the unused rooms he was going to turn into dance studios.

"Ah, it is indeed Georgie," he replied with a grin, glancing out the window. "Come on then, I'd like to show you the ballroom," he announced, a flicker of conspiracy flashing in his eyes.

"The one you're converting?" Eli questioned curiously. His grin grew slightly.

"Ah… no. I'd prefer if we kept this one exactly as it is," was his response, before leading them out of the room. All but Eli seemed to be aware of what was going on, as they were fighting smiles. Eli was admittedly rather confused.

That is, until the huge twin mahogany doors were pushed open, revealing the ballroom.

Eli couldn't believe her eyes. It was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. The peach coloured highly polished quartz floor glittered beautifully, with little veins of blue and cream, the ceiling was impossibly high and painted once more in the beautiful frescos of the entrance hall, the walls had the same stunning moulding, but none of those features were what captured her attention. A huge glass window that overtook the entire wall lit up the room with a gorgeous pink and gold sunset, setting off the colours of the floor and glittering more than any precious diamond ever could. She could see what seemed like hundreds of acres of grass, trees and garden stretching out into the horizon through those huge windows, a sense of just how enormous and beautiful Pemberley was filling her.

In fact, the ballroom reminded her of the Disney movie _Beauty and the Beast_, one of her favourite films.

"Do you like it?" she heard Darcy question her quietly.

"I – I – it's so beautiful," she murmured incredulously. _I can understand why you used me to get this place back_, she thought, but didn't say.

"I personally prefer it at night. You can see every single star in the sky," he informed her, sounding rather pleased with her reaction. "We'll be eating on the balcony tonight – I trust everyone is alright with that?"

Eli didn't hear George and Emilia's agreeing responses; she was just so lost in how beautiful the room was. She never wanted to leave it. They were led across the room and out a set of side doors that led to a large overhanging balcony that seemed to lip the entire ballroom. A dinner table was set up with fresh white linens and candles _everywhere_, illuminating the gorgeous setting.

"Welcome to Pemberley, Elizabeth," Darcy said quietly, glancing back to her. She gave a small, weak smile. And what a welcome indeed.

Everything was perfect. The food was perfect, the view was perfect, the weather perfect, everyone's company was perfect and Eli was impossibly sad. She didn't even know why, she just felt… so very sad.

"Where are you guys staying?" Darcy asked over dessert and light drinks. The sun had now disappeared from the sky, which was a brilliant twilight-blue and sparkled with a thousand glittering stars.

"The Rose and Crown."

"Hmm. Cute, you giving my guest rooms nicknames and all," Darcy drawled. "I've already had them made up, so there's no point complaining, George," he added, when the elder man made a move to object.

"Hell, I'm not arguing. Let's stay here," Emilia retorted instantly. Eli tried to send her a pleading glance, but she didn't see it. She began chewing her lip anxiously. She just _couldn't_ spend the night at Darcy's house!

"Yay! Emi, we'll have a sleep over!" Georgie said excitedly. Emilia laughed, and promised to the affirmative.

"Well, I guess we're staying here tonight," George sighed, and Darcy gave a smug grin. Eli felt her heart sink – she had no desire to spend the night! "Sorry about that," George murmured a little later, as they all rose with full bellies from the dinner table.

"That's okay," Eli lied with a small, forced smile as Darcy spoke to one of the many members of staff in the building, instructing them to fetch their bags from the car.

"So… uh… would you like to see a bit more of the place?" Darcy asked with slightly awkwardness, approaching the two.

"George and I have already seen it! Come on George, let's go get you a makeover," Emilia interjected, grabbing his arm as Georgie started to lead them down the hall, probably in search of hot rollers and makeup. He sent her an apologetic glance and mouthed 'I'm sorry' as he was tugged away, but it came to very little.

"There's a room I think you might like," Darcy stated finally, after a rather awkward pause had filled the air. "Two rooms, really, but they're both very nice," he added.

"Err… okay," Eli murmured nervously. "Umm. Lead the way," she directed, chewing her bottom lip.

"It's through here," he informed her, placing his hand on the crook of her elbow, and leading her through the other side of the ballroom. "It's the work of several generations. It's been renovated probably a million times just to fit everything in," he began, growing somewhat excited as they moved through endless halls and sitting rooms. "So this is the Pemberley Library," he stated, pushing the twin doors wide open.

Eli gasped. It was _huge_. A giant two-story room with books covering everyway, two winding wooden staircases leading upwards so people could access the incredibly tall shelves, an absolutely colossal fireplace with a rug and very comfortable looking chairs before it, it really did look like another scene out of _Beauty and the Beast_, the Beast's gorgeous library was one of her favourite imaginary places in the world.

And it was real.

"So many books!" she cried in shock.

"Yes, it'd take several lifetimes to read them all," Darcy sighed. "But I try. There are books on every single subject you could ever think of, and I'm always adding to it. Mostly the music section. It's been seriously lacking over the past few years," he commented. "Come on then, I still have to show you the music room," he said, turning back to the doors from whence they came.

"You can't be serious? You show me this gorgeous room for all of two seconds and then try to toss me out?" she exclaimed incredulously.

"You'll like the music room," he assured her firmly.

"Fine… but we're coming back here!" she insisted, to which he grinned. She fought her own smile in response, but gladly followed him down the hall.

"This is my favourite room," he informed her, pushing open the door.

Eli could very easily understand why. It was very large, and mostly open space, but it had every kind of instrument she had ever imagined sitting in there. She counted six guitars, an electric bass, a double bass, a cello, a violin, a viola, a huge drum set, a gorgeous black Steinway grand, a Feurich upright, a harp, several very high-tech keyboards with all sorts of funny machines plugged into them, in a cabinet sat several woodwind instruments, a few flutes, a clarinet, as well as a gleaming saxophone.

"Is there any instrument you _don't _play?" she questioned incredulously.

"Uhh… the spoons, I think," he replied thoughtfully.

"It's beautiful."

"I agree."

"You have the most incredible, wonderful home," she sighed softly, crossing the room. She ran her hand slowly over the lid of the Steinway.

"Play something," he requested suddenly. She chewed her lip.

"Uhh… I'm not sure. I kind of… I haven't played since…" she trailed off slowly.

"Oh. Um, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have –" he practically stammered, before sighing. "There's a lot I shouldn't have done. You probably never want to see my face again, I should just –"

"Play for me."

"What?" Darcy questioned in surprise, turning back to her with a raised brow.

"Play something. I'd like to hear you," she requested softly.

"Uhh… wh – what do you want me to play?" he asked carefully, but she only shrugged.

"Whatever you want," she replied simply. He looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Alright. It's the result of my teenage angst – but… well, you'll see," he murmured, before stepping before the piano and sitting down. He took a deep breath before he started to play. She knew he had written in almost instantly. Something inside her just cried out '_this is HIS music_'.

"_If I tell you, will you listen, will you stay?  
Will you be here forever, never go away?  
Never thought things would change, hold me tight  
Please don't say again that you have to go_,"

A bitter thought – I had it all,  
But I just let it go  
Hold your silence,  
It's so violent, since you're gone

She started to cry as he sung with such passion. His angelic voice surrounded her body and it was as if it were crushing her, squeezing her tightly until she no longer felt the sting of his loss. _  
_

"_All my thoughts are with you forever,  
'Till the day we'll be back together,  
I will be waiting for you_

If I had told you, you would've listened,  
You had stayed, you would be here forever,

_Never went away  
It would never have been all the same,  
All our time what have been in vain  
Cause you had to go,"_

She saw him cry too, but he didn't stop playing. She didn't know if he could. His voice was so beautiful, the words were so pained… it was perfect, and horrible at the same time. _  
_

"_The sweetest thought – I had it all,  
But I did let you go  
All our moments keep me warm,  
When you're gone_"

All my thoughts are with you forever,  
'Till the day we'll be back together,  
I will be waiting for you…

And then he stopped. He was openly crying, and obviously not ashamed of it.

"Sometimes, I hear in my head… this music," he began slowly, his voice strained as he choked down sobs. "Songs sung in a voice too high, too pure for mine. I c – I can't _lose _you," he practically whispered, hanging his head. "When you went away, all I heard was that voice. _Your_ voice. I cut my hands with scissors because I didn't want to ever touch another instrument again – and I wrote music, but it's not for _my_ voice, I wrote it because I wanted you to sing it so desperately, but the words are all wrong for you…" he continued quietly.

Eli wasn't surprised at all to feel fat tears rolling over her cheeks, and she wasn't ashamed to cry as openly as he did.

"Maybe it would have been better if we had never met. I never would have hurt you that way," he sniffled, his tone suggesting that he was angry with himself, not her.

"I wouldn't want that," she whispered softly. "I shouldn't have blamed you completely – m – my parents were never…" she trailed off. "But there isn't one second I regret, Will," she found herself murmuring.

"I wish I could – b – but I messed up too badly," he stammered out brokenly, clumsily wiping his cheeks with his palms to rid them of tears. "Please, you're too kind to toy with me, just _say_ it if it needs to be said, say that you hate me and get it over with," he requested with growing agitation.

Eli did nothing to stop her tears as she moved over to sit on the piano stool beside him. He trembled as she placed her hand on the side of his cheek, and drew his face up to hers. She softly pushed his tears away with her thumbs.

"I want you to understand that you – you are _impossibly_ beautiful to me," she whispered slowly. He regarded her with an expression of great pain and an inability to hope. "And I've loved you for a very long time. But I've been hurting for a very long time – and I won't pretend that you didn't hurt me, because you did, Will, you hurt me so much I thought that I'd die from it," she continued, swallowing rather obviously. His eyes went wide with her revelation as she slowly ran her hands along the side of his face, and buried them in his hair. "But it was never your fault, I blamed you but – it wasn't _you_ I was angry at," she whispered gently.

"I hate myself for causing you pain," he murmured quietly, lowering his pale eyes.

"That's okay. Because I love you enough to make up for that," as her slightly broken response. She moved her hands from his hair, and she slowly began to trace his features. Soft, careful hands ran over the smooth skin of his cheeks, over his eyes, which closed with a sharp indentation of breath, over his perfect nose, and ran along the outlines of his wonderful lips.

She kissed him. It was their first kiss that wasn't stained with lies – and it was beautiful, even with tears and murmured apologies.

"You love me… you _love_ me," he whispered incredulously into her lips. She nodded, and felt herself smile as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I do. I do love you," she assured him softly. He laughed, grinned, and pulled her as tightly as he could into his arms, where he continued to kiss her rather soundly.

**A/N: I don't like this chapter. But then again, I'm kind of in a mood where I don't like much today. I also don't feel like a writer today. I feel like a photographer, but I still don't know how to work my camera (SLR is CRAZY difficult!), so I guess I have to settle with being a writer. Can't wait until I'm an adult and able to wander the world whenever I feel restless, to all those grown-up readers, I envy you your freedom!**

**So the song in this chapter is called 'Bittersweet' by Within Temptation, and I'm particularly fond of it. Pemberley is based on a combination of Chatsworth House and the castle in the Disney film 'Beauty and the Beast'. **


	32. Heaven will have to wait

"_Are you saying my time here,_

_Has been some sort of joke?_

_That I've been messing around,_

_Some sort of incubating period?_"

-Martha Wainwright, 'Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole'

As Emilia had predicted, the new happiness that Darcy and Eli had found together was so great, that he demanded they stay for the remainder of the holiday before returning for exams. Partially this was due to the beauty of Pemberley and the peace they had there, but for the most part, it was to avoid the wrath of Rosings Park.

"It won't be so bad," George tried to assure them over dinner one night.

"Ahh… from my parent's perspective, he's kind of Satan," Eli reminded him.

"I can't _believe_ they found the letter. They must want my head mounted on their wall," Darcy murmured, looking rather pale at the prospect.

"Of course they don't," Eli assured him firmly, and he relaxed slightly. "No, then they'd have to look at your face. I think they'd prefer death-by-blender," she said cheerfully.

"Thanks. I feel so loved," he drawled sarcastically.

"Well you guys are going to have to tell them eventually, they're going to work it out," Emilia pointed out. Darcy sighed.

"Can't we just forget to tell them?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah, the big fat promise ring won't indicate anything," Eli retorted, indicating the white gold diamond ring that had returned to her hand on Darcy's request.

"Why don't we just go back and tell them it was a hoax, and we're still up for their arranged marriage?" he suggested hopefully.

"The only way I'll marry you is if I _don't_ have your Aunt sticking a shot-gun in my spine."

"Same end, different method."

"It's a matter of principal! If I let my parents think they can force me into an arranged marriage, then they'll set an example for other parents, and _no one_ will be able to marry the people they love!" she objected.

"_No_, your mother will just attempt to set our children up with their well-off cousins," he retorted, his eyes sparkling cheekily. "So we won't tell her. We'll hide them when she comes around to visit," he said decidedly.

"We are _not_ letting my parents get away with thinking that they orchestrated our marriage," she retorted pointedly.

"Then we'll elope!"

"I'm only sixteen, we can't elope!"

"We could get married in Scotland," he said suddenly. "We don't need parental consent there, and we wouldn't have to wait until you turn of age," he rationalised.

"You two aren't _seriously_ thinking of getting married, are you?" George exclaimed in surprise. Eli chewed her lip softly, and reached for Darcy's hand on the table.

"Maybe…" she trailed off, her dark eyes twinkling.

"Oh my God. Are you pregnant?" Emilia cried suddenly.

"No!"

"No!"

Eli and Darcy both answered very quickly.

"We don't want to have sex until we're married," Darcy said calmly.

"And you're eloping just so you can have sex?" George questioned doubtfully.

"Even if we _did_ decide that we want to get married, it wouldn't be for quite a while," Eli tried to assure him. "It wouldn't be because of sex, honestly. I thought this was teenage infatuation at first, but… it's so much more than that, George," she said sincerely.

"But… _marriage_, it's a big thing, Eli," he objected.

"I know that! Why are you assuming that I'm the one that can't comprehend how important this is?" she questioned, sounding genuinely quite hurt.

"Eli, I don't want to sound cruel, but Darcy is more experienced with this sort of stuff than you are," George tried to explain.

"George, we know how big this is. But there isn't a question of us getting married – it's just _when_," Darcy explained, giving Eli's hand a soft squeeze. "She's still very young yet, but I know that Elizabeth understands the significance of this kind of commitment," he added, softly bringing Eli's hand to his mouth, and pressing a soft kiss to it.

"Darcy, you aren't even nineteen yet, and Eli is still legally a child," George threw in with concern.

"Listen, I know that we're both very young, but you have to understand George – I _know_ what teenage angst and infatuation is, but I also know that this is different," she said earnestly. "I don't even feel like I belong to myself anymore. It's like we're no longer a separate entity, and I know that we're ready to make a commitment to each other like this," she continued.

"I thought you never wanted to get married," Emilia pointed out slyly.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with Will. I don't put much stock into the idea of marriage, I kind of see it as just a piece of paper," Eli explained slowly.

"Neither of us really have a religion, so it wouldn't be a traditional Christian service, it would be Elizabeth and I making promises to each other about the future," Darcy tried to explain. "It's not about… proving our union to a higher power. It's about standing up in front of people we care about and promising that we'll always be loving, accepting and faithful to each other," he continued, softly meeting Eli's eyes. "Yes, it will be a marriage, but the only reason we're doing it is so we can make that promise to each other in the eyes of our friends, family and the law," he added, giving her a small smile.

"You've only been together for a relatively short amount of time," George pointed out.

"George – you understand more than anyone what it is to love someone with your entire being," Eli said softly to him, her voice almost pleading. "If you had the choice – if the person you loved more than anything else in life loved you too and wanted to shout it to the heavens, to be damned with age and laws and customs – wouldn't you take it?" she questioned. "I'll be honest – I'm not ready right now for this, or otherwise we'd be at Gretna Green already. But I can feel that I will be soon, and when I am, we'll do it because we can and we want to. You can't judge me, George, because you'd do it yourself if you could," she finished softly.

"What's she talking about?" Emilia asked curiously. George looked rather pale, and quite still.

He nodded.

Eli jumped up from her seat, and laughing, she pulled George into a tight hug.

"Thank you! God, I knew you'd understand!" she cried joyfully.

"I admit I was worried… but you two have my blessing, even though I doubt you'd need it," he sighed, returning Eli's hug.

"No. I wouldn't do it if you didn't think it was right," she swore firmly. "I still need to talk to Llewellyn, but this is serious, George, it's for real," she assured him. He smiled, and gave another sigh, that turned into a chuckle.

"Well, congratulations then," he said simply.

"I'm designing your dress."

"You're my bloody maid of honour, so you'd better be," Eli retorted instantly. Emilia's eyes shone with excitement.

"Antoinette _has_ to be a bridesmaid," she insisted firmly.

"_Duh_! And Llewellyn is going to be my best man," she replied. Emilia raised a questioning brow.

"You can't have a best man," she pointed out.

"I want one!"

"He'll have to wear a dress."

"That's okay, just as long as it's the same colour as the elephant that we are _totally_ getting instead of a limo," Eli retorted with a grin.

"Best man?" Darcy questioned, glancing over to George.

"As long as I get to make an embarrassing and drunken speech about you."

"At least you won't molest every man and woman in the room like Richard would if he got the job," he replied with a shrug.

"Will, can I get married in jeans?" Eli asked her intended curiously, as Emilia started to babble on about tulle and sequins and lace.

"Not a _chance_."

"Damn. Can I get married in my _Joni Mitchell_ shirt?" she asked excitedly.

"You're wearing a dress, and it will be white," he insisted firmly. She rolled her eyes.

"_Fine_," she sighed miserably, but a small grin was playing on the corners of her lips. Darcy leant over and kissed her.

"Love you," he murmured against her lips.

"I'd love you even more if you let me wear jeans…"

"Nice try," he chuckled, before pressing another kiss against her lips. Emilia sighed dreamily.

Eli couldn't help but grin. If George and Emilia's acceptance was a sign of things to come, she was pretty sure that she and Darcy would be able to handle whatever was thrown at them.

~ * ~

However, it seemed that George and Emilia's support and understanding of their rekindled relationship wasn't universal. Upon returning to Rosings Park a week before the beginning of exams, Eli and Darcy found themselves on the receiving end of a great deal of misunderstanding.

Everyone in Rosings Park absolutely and totally despised Darcy. Apparently during the holiday break, word had gotten around that he was a complete rake, that he bribed Mr and Mrs Bennett into giving him their youngest daughter, that he had attempted to rape her and shame her into the engagement, that he had made Char dump Jay because he didn't want any boys near any of the Bennett girls, his jealousy was so strong. They believed he had beaten up Gershom Wickham and stole his trust fund, that he had strung Clare Bingley along just to tease Eli, that he had used his last girlfriend for sex and dumped her when she refused to put out, in the eyes of those in Rosings Park, no bigger scoundrel existed in all the world.

"I don't mind," he informed her simply as he instructed a hired hand where to put his belongings in the new apartment he had taken a lease out on for the next two months. "It just means that I don't have to talk to people," he explained with a shrug.

"This is ridiculous. Why can't you move back in with your Aunt?" she questioned incredulously, leaning on the grand piano that was the sole reason he had leased the apartment. It was already in there when he moved in.

"Because she's Satan's spawn, as you're well aware," he retorted instantly. She sighed.

"You should be studying, not worrying about moving into a new place," she reminded him. He shrugged.

"I don't mind, Elizabeth. I'm barely doing any of the work, the place came fully furnished, I just want this all set up so that Georgie can come here on the weekend," he replied simply, carefully unpacking his picture frames and placing them atop a cabinet. "And it would be twice as difficult to see you if I was staying with my Aunt, the moment she saw us together she'd run off to your mother and you'll be sent to a nunnery," he pointed out.

"I honestly have no idea how they're going to react," Eli murmured, sitting down on the piano stool and beginning to mindlessly play a piece with the practise pedal on. "I mean, I'm pretty sure Dorr will stab you, but only if you stand really close, put the knife in his hand, and jumped on it yourself so he's not disturbed when he's reading," she said thoughtfully. "But Francie… I think her pride is too much for her. She won't be able to take accepting you back with welcome arms after everything people are saying about you. Money is important to her, but her pride is even more important," she sighed dismally.

"We have to tell them," he reminded her.

"I know… but I don't know, Will. I just don't know," was her quiet response.

"What are you playing?" he asked curiously, glancing over to the piano.

"Huh? Oh, I dunno. Just something I made up, it doesn't have a name or words or anything," she replied, shrugging.

"Take the practise pedal off."

Eli complied, and began the piece anew.

"It's lovely. Sad, but very beautiful," Darcy said thoughtfully. "Write some lyrics for it. I'd like to hear it. I can imagine the strings section for it already," he added.

"That reminds me, I want to learn a new instrument," she announced. He grinned, and raised a brow.

"Well you, my dear, despite all that you've been led to believe, are not a piano or a guitar," he stated factually. "Your strongest instrument is obviously your voice, but I'm thinking… either woodwind or strings," he said thoughtfully.

"Hmm… _what am I_?" she sung playfully. Darcy circled her, before wrapping his arms around her form from behind. He softly kissed the nape of her neck, and then twisted to find the place just across from her clavicle that always elicited a very positive reaction.

"You, my dear, are definitely something stringed… either a violin or a viola," he murmured against her neck.

"I've always loved the cello," she replied, fighting off the urge to gasp.

"No. It's too deep, too dark for you," he said instantly, shooting her idea down. "Oh, I'll teach you to play it, but you're a soprano, Elizabeth. In every aspect of music, you can be sometimes delicate, sometimes aching and sorrowful, sometimes light and playful, or passionate…" he murmured. "I personally think a viola. But I'll teach you everything with strings, that's the kind of creature you are," he informed her stately, sliding onto the piano stool. "God… that's so beautiful. You have to give it a name, and words," he insisted, listening once more to her playing.

"Right here, it needs a cello," she murmured. "And the violin should come in… here. And the drums. I'm thinking 1812 overture style," she stated, lost in the piece.

"I can hear it."

"It would be beautiful."

"It _is_ beautiful," he insisted, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, and lazily running his hand up and down her arm. "This is going to be our 'forever'," he whispered.

"Looking forward to it?"

"More than words can say."

~ * ~

"Sir?"

"Eli! It's good to see you," Llewellyn declared as cheerfully as he could as Eli slipped into his office on the first day back to school. She took in his appearance with concern. He looked very weathered, tired, drawn, even ill, with heavy bags beneath his dulled eyes, stubble over his cheek and jaw, his hands almost trembling as he sorted out the papers littering his desk.

"I asked George not to tell you, because I wanted to tell you myself," she said slowly, stepping properly into the room. Llewellyn met her eyes with curiosity and concern.

"Tell me what, Eli?" he asked with a slight frown.

"Will and I are back together," she informed him, trying to fight the grin threatening to take over her features.

However, Llewellyn didn't grin.

"Ah… I see," he murmured, nodding slowly.

"You don't believe what everyone has been saying about him, do you?" she questioned almost immediately, confused with his reaction. Llewellyn shook his head.

"No, I don't. I'm just… wary," he admitted carefully.

"I love him. I love him and he loves me," she said earnestly. "He told me the truth, he apologised for everything that he did –"

"And that makes it alright?" Llewellyn questioned with slight curtness. Eli almost reeled back in shock.

"No, it doesn't, but he can't change his mistakes, and he's done his best to rectify them," she answered, confused, but not wanting to let it show.

"So the boy tried to force you into a marriage you didn't want, practically ripped apart your family, took advantage of your innocence… and you're just forgiving him," he stated mockingly.

"I never said I forgave him, but Sir, I love William more than I can even understand, and I'm accepting him for his faults like he has mine!" she argued, growing upset.

"You're too young to understand the consequences of these sorts of actions, Elizabeth," Llewellyn practically snapped.

"Don't you dare just assume that I'm too young to understand anything!" she objected angrily. "I'm not an idiot, I _know_ that –"

"So you're just going to let everything he's done to you slide?" Llewellyn questioned incredulously. Eli practically trembled with mixed emotions that she was bottling up. "Aren't you thinking about all the hurt he's caused you?" he asked her coolly.

"I think about it every day!" she cried finally, feeling tears threaten her eyes. "I will _never_ forget the feeling of complete and utter helplessness when I was thrown into that horrible mess! I will _never_ be able to just forget my father telling me that I was a disappointment because of the situation that Will forced me into – and there isn't a chance in hell that I'm going to be able to forget losing him – not even knowing if I would be able to get up the morning and go through another day without him!" she confessed, her tone a mixture of anger and desperation. "I wanted to tell _you_. Out of everyone in this rotten place – I wanted to tell _you_ about this! My family doesn't even know!" she cried.

Llewellyn said nothing. He was staring at the floor, and she couldn't determine his expression.

"I value what you say above my own damn _parents_, and you don't even have the decency to look me in the eye?" she questioned incredulously. "Fine. Whatever," she snapped, when she saw no reaction. "I thought you would understand. I guess I was wrong," she muttered bitterly, before turning heel, and storming out of her music teacher's office.

Howl didn't look up as she left. He knew that he would see only anger and hurt in her eyes.

_Perhaps it's for the best_, he thought to himself. _People like me don't deserve to have friends or loved ones – this is what happens_.

He pulled his pills from his pocket. He hated taking them – but without Antoinette, and now without Eli, he needed all the help he could get.

~ * ~

Llewellyn's response to the revelation fuelled the fires of anxiety in Eli's mind, and with Darcy and Emilia both buried with exams and studying, and George with his company, she didn't really have anyone to turn to. She wanted to speak to Llewellyn, she desperately wanted to apologise for getting angry and she wanted him to explain why he was being so unreasonable, but he had shut down of late. She found out through the grapevine that he and Toni were no longer together, so she suspected his moodiness and closed-off attitude was due to that unhappy occurrence.

"A word, Elizabeth," Dorr's voice sounded, snapping her out of her reverie as she attempted to read by the living room window. She picked up her book, and followed her father in confusion and silence to his study. "Sit," he commanded, gesturing vaguely towards an armchair by his desk. "So Darcy is back in Rosings Park," he stated, after a short pause, as if for a lack of something better to say.

"Yep."

"I know you've spoken to him."

"I won't deny that," Eli sniffed in response. She was wary of her father of late, and that attitude was very easy to discern from the cool tone she used when speaking to him.

"I forbid you to do so again," he announced firmly. Eli's eyes widened in shock.

"_What_?" she questioned incredulously.

"I forbid you from talking to him, from seeing him, from even talking _about_ him from now on," he reiterated. "He's a good manipulator, and I don't want you fooled by him again," he stated pointedly. Eli raised a doubtful brow.

"So you couldn't give a damn when I was being forced into an engagement with him, but now that he's living in the same town as me again I have to be on my toes?" she questioned dryly. Dorr scowled.

"Do not be insolent, child!" he snapped angrily. "You're forbidden to go anywhere near that boy – not like you'd _want_ to, after all the little shit did," he said coolly.

"You can't control me, not anymore," she insisted firmly.

"I am your father, and I can do as I choose! You will _not_ see that boy ever again, and I won't tolerate any arguments on that!" he cried. "Now get out of my site – go study, you stupid child!" he ordered angrily. Eli stood up all too happily and stormed out of the second room that month, slamming the door behind her.

So she was forbidden to see Darcy.

Well, that complicated matters somewhat.

~ * ~

"What does it mean?" Darcy questioned with a frown a few days later, when he had a minute to spare.

"It means that my father is getting worried that I might defy him," she answered simply, sipping her hot Milo (Darcy had ordered it in from Australia for her) in pensive silence.

"You don't think he knows anything, do you?" he asked nervously. Eli shook her head.

"No, I think… he's come to the realisation that I'm not going to be his little puppet any longer, and he's thought of the most wild, disobedient thing I could do," she replied. "He's simply covering his bases. But he _is_ serious, he'll fight it till it kills him – there's not a chance that Dorr is going to accept us," she murmured quietly.

"It complicates matters, doesn't it," Darcy sighed, sipping his own beverage. "Listen, I know we decided to tell everyone after exams, but maybe we should wait," he suggested.

"You don't want that," Eli stated blankly.

"I know I don't. But he's your father, maybe he just needs time," he rationalised. She shook her head firmly.

"No. Dorr is going to stick to his guns – he hates it when he's wrong, so he won't bury the hatchet even if you're nominated for Sainthood," she responded almost instantly.

"We can't lie to him for very long," he pointed out. Eli nodded slowly.

"I know."

"Listen, if you stay at home, we'll have to sneak around and constantly lie to be together, and lies have already caused us enough pain," he sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "Maybe we should get married after exams, and you can move out," he suggested, his voice lilting slightly in hope. Eli chewed her lip.

'_I'm not ready yet!'_ her heart cried in protest. Her head was taking Darcy's side of the argument, but she didn't know if she could do it so soon. She had been thinking the next year at the earliest.

"I'm not saying that you have to decide now, Elizabeth," Darcy pointed out, noting her silence. "But… you _do_ have to make a decision," he murmured simply.

"I know," she whispered. "I will. Just not yet," she promised, before raising her drink to her mouth so she didn't have to see the disappointment in his eyes.

~ * ~

"And what is the name of your composition?"

"Bittersweet."

"We understand you wrote, performed and pre-recorded the entire orchestra accompaniment for this piece."

"That is correct."

"Could you please explain the meaning behind this song?"

Darcy chewed his lip – a nervous habit he had picked up from Eli. He had been wary of that part of the assessment.

"It's based on a personal experience. I hurt my girlfriend very deeply, and she left me," he stated calmly. "I sent her a letter explaining my actions, apologising, but not asking for forgiveness. I let her go, and I regretted that – I should have been brave enough to live up to my mistakes. I had everything I could have ever wanted, and I screwed it up, that's the bitter thought, and the sweet thought is the memory of what we had before I messed up," he explained. The examiner raised an eyebrow curiously.

"And the end result?" he questioned.

"She came back. And I'm very grateful for it," he answered simply. The examiner gave the slightest flicker of a smile, and nodded.

"Whenever you're ready to play, Mister Darcy."

He took a deep breath, and moved over to the piano, before nodding at the woman standing next to the CD player, which would play the accompaniment he had pre-recorded.

He felt her presence next to him. He was calm.

~ * ~

Eli, however, wasn't calm. She wasn't calm at all.

And the reason for that was sitting on the dining room table.

"But I don't _want_ to go back to Australia!" Lyla cried impetuously.

"Christian is here! And so is Richard!" Jay objected bitterly

"But I _like_ being a rich English girl!" Katie scowled.

"Girls, when your father makes a decision you will stand by it," Francie snapped, but her eyes, her eyes revealed that she wasn't at all happy. Eli wondered if she had ever been truly happy in her life.

"I honestly don't care. I've been offered the position of the Executive Head of the company back in Sydney, and I think we've had quite enough of England," he snapped coolly. His daughters silenced. Dorr met Eli's gaze with his cold, hard eyes.

'_This is what happens when you try to defy me, child_,' they seemed to say.

So… It was to be Darcy, or Australia.

Eli had never felt more alone in her life than she did as she stared at the six Qantas Airline tickets sitting in front of her. Her choice had suddenly gotten a whole lot harder.

**A/N: Hear that noise? It's the sound of a plot twist ripping the story apart. **

**And just when you thought it was safe…**

**^__^**


	33. Torn

"_So I guess the fortune teller's right,  
Should have seen just what was there and not some holy light,  
To crawl beneath my veins and now  
I don't care, I have no luck, I don't miss it all that much,  
There's just so many things that I can't touch, I'm torn,"_  
-Natalie Imbruglia, 'Torn'

Eli had no idea where she was going, or what she was doing. She needed to run, she needed to run far, far away to a place where she didn't need to make decisions or choose between the two loves or her life, Darcy and her country.

She missed Australia. She longed so desperately for the clear blue skies that hardly ever held rain, for the hot summer days on the beach, gum trees swaying in the wind. She missed Nutella and Vegemite and Milo and Wheat Bix, she missed people speaking in an accent she recognised, she missed walking past the local primary school and hearing the Kindy students practise the National Anthem, she missed the beach and swimming and the hot sand beneath her tanned feet.

It had been easier, before, to think of living in England for an indefinite period of time, before she had a choice. Now there was such a clear definition between her two options. Home, or Darcy. She would always call Australia her home. It was always going to be the country she was born in, raised in, and her entire being ached for it.

But… she loved Darcy. She loved every little bit of him, his beauty, his flaws, his music that was a part of his very soul, she _loved_ him, completely, utterly, and purely loved him.

She wished that she could have both. But she knew she couldn't – she couldn't ask Darcy to leave England. He had everything in England, his sister, Pemberley, his past, present and future.

"Where the _hell_ have you been?" Dorr questioned a few hours later as she slipped into the house.

"I – I just went for a walk," she replied.

"You little liar! You went to see him!" he cried angrily. Eli's eyes widened in shock.

"I didn't, I swear!" she responded.

"Do you think I'm an idiot? You're back with him just to spite me, you ungrateful child!" he practically growled.

"I don't have to take you into consideration when I made decisions about my life, Dorr! I wouldn't do anything to spite you because I just don't care about you that much!" she threw back angrily. Dorr was practically blowing steam from his ears.

"Go upstairs, now! You can go start packing! I'll send you over early and you can stay with your bloody Aunt for all I care!" he shouted. Eli's heart wrenched with longing at the idea of getting on a plane and stepping off it on familiar ground.

"I'm going out."

"Oh, right back to _him_!" he cried furiously.

"No, _not_ to him, but it wouldn't matter if it was – I love him!" she exploded finally.

"Humph. So _that_ explains the whole 'arranged marriage' fiasco," he snapped coolly.

"No, it doesn't! There will _never_ be any justification for what you and Francie put me through – I _hate_ you for letting others try to buy and sell me off like I were a possession!" she cried.

"I thought you _loved_ the little shit?" Dorr questioned angrily.

"I do love him – and you will _never_ understand how much, because you don't know how to love!" she retorted. "But I didn't love him when I was pushed into that engagement, what you people did was wrong and sick – and I won't let you destroy the only real love that I've received in my life by trying to control it!" she finished angrily, turning heel and walking right out of the house once more.

She was crying as she pulled out her mobile. Darcy would still be in his music exam, Emilia in her maths. She quickly dialled George, and held back a sob as he answered.

"I – It's Eli," she informed him brokenly.

"What's wrong? Eli? Is everything okay?" he questioned with concern.

"Umm… no. I just – I just had a big argument with Dorr. I wanted to talk to Llewellyn, how can I reach him?" she asked quickly.

"He's still at the hospital. He doesn't want anyone there," George answered.

"_What_? He's in hospital?" Eli exclaimed suddenly, stopping her quick pace down the road.

"Shit – I thought you knew," he muttered. "I can't tell you. He wouldn't want anyone to know, Eli," he tried to explain.

"George, I'm going to the hospital. I don't care if he doesn't want to see me, he's my friend and I need him and if he's in the hospital then he probably needs a friend too," she finished, before ending the call. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and dug her wallet out of her jeans pockets. She had more than enough money to get a taxi over to the hospital.

The ride over was sickeningly slow. Her mind was spinning at a million miles an hour, going from Darcy to Australia to Llewellyn and the pills he was always taking, had he gotten worse? Was he dying? He was the only one that could help her now, the only one that could sit her down and say 'Eli, this is what you should do', and she knew it was selfish, but she needed him.

She was extremely nervous as she walked through the lobby of Rosings Park Memorial. It was all terribly clean, people bustling around everywhere, sick people coughing and spluttering all around her. She walked up to the front desk hastily.

"Umm, I was looking for a patient here? Howell Llewellyn?" she questioned softly. The nurse gave her a kindly smile, and turned to the computer.

"Are you a family member?" she asked. Eli nodded.

"I'm his niece from Australia. Is he alright?" she replied quickly.

"He'll be fine," she assured her, taking a post-it, and scribbling directions on it. "You make sure to take good care of him, alright?" she added, passing her the little piece of paper. Eli nodded.

"I will," she replied firmly, before thanking the kind woman, and heading off to the elevator.

She looked around the room that she had found herself in. It had four beds in it, two with the curtains drawn, one with a sleeping old man, and in the corner bed was Howl Llewellyn, wearing normal clothing, zipping up an overnight bag.

"Sir!" she cried out instantly, rushing into the room. Llewellyn looked remarkably surprised as she instantly wound her arms around his slimming frame in a tight hug.

"Eli? What are you doing here?" he questioned in a very puzzled tone.

"I don't want you to die!" she found herself crying against his chest. "It's not fair! You're too nice to die – I know you're sick but you have to stay alive!" she begged him.

"Eli, I'm not dying," he assured her, giving a small chuckle as she patted back her hair.

"I'm sorry I was so rude to you – I was stupid and I'm really, _really_ sorry," she sobbed, stepping back from him and wiping her teary eyes with her jacket sleave.

"It's alright. I – I wasn't myself, I barely understood what you were saying," he assured her gently. "And _I_ was rude to _you_, Eli. I shouldn't have behaved how I behaved, you deserve better than that," he added, giving a soft smile. He looked pale, and even more drawn than usual. "How did you find out I was here?" he questioned carefully.

"G – George told me. I called him, I wanted to talk to you, and he let it slip. He didn't mean to," she replied, chewing her lip. Llewellyn chuckled.

"Yes, he's my emergency contact," he informed her, nodding slightly.

"You're not dying?" she questioned softly.

"No, not today," he assured her with a small smile. It was rather forced, however.

"I know you're sick. I've seen the pills and you're really moody all the time, but if it's cancer there are loads of treatments you can take and they'll let you get better, I _know_ they will," she assured him.

"Eli, I don't have cancer. I don't even have a real 'disease'," he replied softly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him in confusion.

"What do you –" she began, before her eyes caught sight of something.

Both his wrists were bandaged.

"No."

"Eli, I didn't want you to find out like this. I didn't want you to find out at all," he murmured apologetically.

"_No_."

"I'm sorry. I know it's hard to understand," he said softly, not meeting her eyes.

"No! You couldn't! You wouldn't do that!" she cried angrily.

"Eli, please. It's not as simple as you think," he pleaded very quietly.

"W – Why would you – how could you –" she stammered, her eyes wide with fear and unknowing. He sighed.

"There's a nice park just around the corner. Why don't you and I talk a little over there after I've signed a few discharge papers, alright?" he suggested. Eli found herself nodding slowly, and she held on tightly to his arm as he swung the overnight bag over his shoulder and they walked out of the ward together.

"Found him, did you?" the friendly nurse questioned as they got to the front desk. Eli nodded, and hung her head. "Isn't she lovely? Most kids wouldn't be bothered to visit their uncles in hospital, but she came in here all by herself," she said smilingly. Eli heard Llewellyn chuckle.

"Yes, she's a very good niece," he replied, his tone suggesting that he was teasing Eli for her little lie.

She said nothing as he signed his discharge papers, and they walked out of the hospital together.

"Hungry?" he asked curiously. She shook her head. "Well I'm starving. Hospital food is of very poor quality," he informed her, trying to sound cheerful.

She still said nothing as he wandered over to a small café and ordered a coffee, a hot chocolate, and two blueberry muffins.

"Come on then, I assume you've got some questions," he sighed, sitting down on a bench by the pond. Eli realised in a flash it was the same bench she had sat on with Darcy after Emilia's party. He passed her the hot chocolate and a muffin in silence, as he sipped his own coffee.

"I don't understand," she said finally, staring at her shoes. It was a very novel experience for her, not understanding. Before she had come to England she seemed to understand everything. But suddenly her whole life was up in the air and she had no idea how it had gotten there.

"No, I wouldn't expect you to," he murmured quietly. "You're undoubtedly clever, Eli, but the mind can be a very funny thing when it doesn't want to accept a possibility…" he added with a small shrug.

"Why would you do that?" she asked him softly. She glanced up; he was staring out at the pond with a distant expression.

"Because I'm not very good at it, and I suppose I needed the practise," he commented simply. "I've lost count of how many times I've tried to do it. I often wonder if I'm ever sincere in my attempts – I once tried to suffocate myself by filling my mouth with marshmallows," he informed her factually, a tiny, bitter grin flickering over his lips for a moment.

"You've done this before?" she questioned, her voice pained. He nodded.

"I first tried when I was five years old. I threw myself off the roof of my parent's house," he said, without bitterness or anger, just… emptiness.

"Why would you do that? _Why_?" she asked incredulously, her tone filled with pleading.

"I was diagnosed with something called 'Bi-Polar Disorder' when I was very young. My first experiences were mostly mania – I thought I was invincible," he chuckled softly. "I barely slept for weeks at a time, I would talk a hundred miles an hour, and my mind never seemed to stop spinning," he informed her. "As I got older I also experienced very long, intense periods of depression. And the worst thing was that I never knew what it was going to be when I woke up in the morning; when I'm 'in a mood' every joke seems insanely hilarious, or stepping on an ant can bring me to a fit of tears, it's uncontrollable," he murmured quietly. "Most of the time I'm 'normal'. But sometimes…" he trailed off.

"All those days you missed of school, and you would always come back looking so worn down…" she realised slowly. "The pills, why you're always really off and on with Toni, it all fits…"

"Like a very painful glove," he finished. "Eli, I don't tell people about this. I could lose my job, people don't want their children being taught by… well, someone like me," he sighed, throwing a few crumbs from his muffin out onto the pond where birds snapped them up immediately. "And I didn't want you to think any less of me. You said that you value my opinion, and I value yours," he added honestly.

"But why did you try to kill yourself this time?" she questioned, her heart filling with dread. It wasn't because what she had said to him, was it?

"A few reasons… but mostly because Antoinette refuses to accept that she's better off without me. I wanted to make sure that she didn't have me around to make life harder for her," he confessed.

"But… you love her!"

"I do," he agreed. "God, Eli, I can't even explain how much I love her. But she made the wrong decision by trying to choose a life with me. I don't deserve Antoinette. I only hurt her, that's just… what I seem to be good at," he explained, his voice pained and small. "I keep making her leave, but she keeps coming back. She shouldn't, she should just move on," he continued quietly.

"If you think that she made the wrong decision by trying to stick by you, then you don't really love her, sir," she replied. He looked rather startled. "You can't love someone if you don't respect them. And you don't respect Toni's decision to spend her life with you," she rationalised. "Maybe you don't deserve her. But that's only because you obviously don't love her enough to respect her wishes. And she must love you a lot more than you love her if she respects yours enough to leave when you make her go, but not give up on you," she added simply.

"I've never… looked at it like that," he said thoughtfully.

"What would you do if you knew that she needed you, but didn't want you?" she asked curiously.

"Stick by her. Give her space, but I wouldn't leave," he murmured.

"That's what she's doing. Is it so hard to believe that she loves you?" she questioned him almost timidly.

"Yes. I don't have your strength, Eli," he confessed. "I wish I did, but I just don't. Antoinette is the most perfect, wonderful creature in the world, and I love her with everything that's in me. But she needs someone stronger than I am," he sighed, staring pensively at his hands.

"If you love her as much as you say you do, and you're able to keep away from her, then you are pretty strong," Eli pointed out. He chuckled.

"Your positiveness astounds me, Eli," he murmured affectionately.

"You should call Toni. Tell her the truth, that you love her, tell her your doubts, your fears, your hopes, just take it one day at a time," she advised. He gave a small smile.

"We'll see," he muttered to his coffee cup.

"I don't want you to die," she said quietly, after a short silence had passed between them. "I don't want you to murder yourself – _please_, please don't die," she pleaded.

"Eli, I wish I could promise that I'd never do this again, but I just can't," he said honestly. "I've tried everything there is to treat this, but there's nothing more that can be done – I don't control the days when I'm just not myself," he explained carefully. "You need to understand that it's hard to live like this. It's hard for me, it was hard for my parents, my sister, she doesn't even let me see her children because she's so terrified of who I am. And it's hard for Antoinette, too," he continued sadly.

"But she _loves_ you!"

"That isn't always enough. Our relationship would be difficult, even if I didn't have this… problem," he retorted. Eli raised an eyebrow.

"Is it because she's younger than you?" she questioned pointedly. He sighed.

"Partially… and partially the issue lies in the fact that I was once her teacher," he informed her simply. "I met her four years ago, she was in your year at the time. This was my first school after I moved to England, and hers since she left France," he added with a small shrug.

"That's…"

"Scary? Disgusting? I think that's why George told me about Emilia – because I too fell for someone younger and seemingly untouchable," he offered, a twinkle in his amber eyes.

"I was going to say illegal," she admitted. He laughed.

"We didn't start going out until after she graduated," he assured her.

"Is that because she was a lesbian in high school?" Eli asked sympathetically. He snorted in laughter into his coffee cup.

"Uh – that was a part of it. That and the fact that it was, as you said, illegal," he replied, still grinning.

"Does it bother you?" she questioned curiously.

"I don't know. She was always cracking jokes about 'detention', which annoyed me, but… I tried not to think of her like that when she was still in school," he explained with a shrug.

"No, I meant that she's still bi-sexual," Eli laughed.

"Oh. Uhhh… not really. We both like women. Just one more thing that we have in common," he confessed simply. "I sometimes feel like I'm competing with both the male _and_ female population to keep her, but she said that I'm the only man she would ever want to be with. If I had never existed, she'd still be with a woman," he continued with a shrug.

"How long have you been together?" she asked curiously.

"It's been off and on for about two and a half years."

"That's a long time," she murmured thoughtfully. He chuckled.

"For you, perhaps," he conceded.

"Does she know?" she questioned, gesturing wordlessly towards his wrists. He shook his head.

"No. Not about this time."

"She'd want to know," Eli pointed out. He sighed. "If something happened to her, wouldn't you want to know? If something really bad happened?" she questioned.

"Eli, she didn't extend me the same curtesy of even telling me when she miscarried our child – a child that we should have been able to grieve _together_," he said snappishly. Eli bit her lip softly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered quietly. He gave a long, slow sigh.

"No, I am. This happens a lot. I… It takes very little to make me speak rudely," he murmured ashamedly.

"She told George about it. He told me, so… I knew," she said very softly.

"That was… a very horrible experience. I've tried to… well, do this," he began, gesturing to his wrists, "several times because of it. But I stayed with her when it happened. I couldn't leave her. I'd lost a child that I'd never met, or held or seen, but she lost one that had been a part of her. That she had shared her body with, and her pain was worse than mine," he murmured.

"So you knew the whole time?"

"She tried to burn the box and the pregnancy test so I wouldn't find out, but she didn't do a very good job of covering it up," he informed her.

"But you didn't tell her that you knew? Not even when she lost it?" she questioned incredulously. He hung his head in shame.

"I don't know why I didn't say so. The prospect of a child terrified me – she was eighteen years old, I was barely twenty-eight, and I was scared it would turn out like me," he confessed. "I didn't think I deserved to have a baby, and I saw it as the universe reminding me of that fact," he explained slowly.

"You would have been a wonderful Dad. Toni would have been a wonderful Mum," she assured him. A ghost of a smile flickered on his lips.

"Maybe, maybe not."

"No, really! Some people just shouldn't be parents, but and kid would be lucky to have you as a Dad! I know I would be!" she argued against his doubt. "God knows that my parents aren't fit for the role…" she murmured quietly.

"Eli?"

"E – Everything has gone wrong, sir. It's all ruined," she whispered softly.

"With Darcy?"

"With… everything," she murmured, fighting tears. "I love him so much. But I don't know what to do," she admitted softly.

"I thought you were back together. You've seemed happy recently with him," he pointed out.

"Dorr has forbidden me to see him ever again, a – and I told him that he couldn't tell me what to do," she sniffled. "He wants to move us all back to Australia. He did the exact same thing last year – I said he couldn't force me to go to be a doctor, and he shifted us over to England. A – And now I have to choose between Australia and Will," she explained, tears falling freely. "He won't let me be with him. He'll do whatever it takes to make sure I obey him – and Will would never come to Australia, he has too much here," she continued, letting out a sob that had been threatening to escape her throat.

"But your father isn't giving you any choice?" he questioned in shock.

"If I don't go with him to Australia, he'll cast me off completely. I won't be his daughter anymore," she answered. "I don't _want_ to be his daughter! I don't want Dorr to be my father and I don't want Francie to be my Mum – not after what they did to me! What they did was unimaginable, I don't even recognise them as my parents anymore!" she cried, growing rather emotional. "They've changed completely – and so have the twins and Jay, and I just don't know what to _do_!" she finished angrily.

"The first thing you have to do, Eli, is choose between Darcy and Australia," Llewellyn replied quietly. "I know it's not fair, but you have to make that choice."

"Darcy wants to get married in Scotland as soon as the exams are over so I can live with him," she informed him. "I don't want to marry him yet. I'm not ready for it – I'm not ready to be a wife, I'm not ready to have sex with him, I'm just not _ready_!" she cried. Llewellyn placed a comforting hand on her arm, and tried to calm her.

"Eli, no one is forcing you to marry Darcy this time, you can wait as long as you want," he gently soothed her. "But even if you did get married, that doesn't mean that you automatically have to have sex," he pointed out.

"He's not a virgin. He told me that he slept with his last girlfriend. I – I don't think he understands what a big deal it is to me, how scary is all seems," she stammered out. "I wish he hadn't slept with her. I just… I think you should only have sex with the person you're going to be with for the rest of your life," she murmured.

"I know. I think that too," he replied calmly. "I didn't think that when I was young, however. I think Antoinette felt it was unfair, she came to me untouched, but I couldn't say the same. I regret that – and I know Darcy does too. He said that he regrets not waiting for you," he informed her. She chewed her lip.

"What do you think I should do?" she asked him earnestly. He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Australia isn't going anywhere. But real love isn't as accessible," he answered simply.

"So I stay. But… I lose my family," she murmured. He gave another sigh.

"Eli, your family have done you nothing but wrong this past year. I don't want to – no, you say you value my opinion, so I think I should share it with you," he muttered. "Your parents tore you away from the country of your birth, denied you the opportunity to study what you wanted to study, forced you into a school that you clearly aren't fond of, and then tried to make you marry a man at sixteen years of age," he listed calmly. "And now they're doing it all over again. It's not right that they do this," he stated finally.

"I know that. I hate them. God, I don't even know if I can go home again," she said angrily. "I don't even feel like they were ever my parents! Just people that I lived with," she continued bitterly. "But… I'll either have to marry Darcy, or go into foster care if I don't go with my parents," she pointed out, chewing her lip anxiously.

"You could always… no, it's stupid," he muttered beneath his breath.

"What?" she questioned curiously, attempting to meet his eyes. "What could I do?"

"It's just a thought. I could understand if you… well, you probably wouldn't," he stammered out.

"I probably wouldn't what?" she inquired. He sighed, and looked like he was steeling himself to say something that required a great deal of courage.

"I could take you in. I could look after you," he blurted out finally.

Eli blinked in surprise.

"You mean… you would be my foster-carer?" she questioned in confusion. He looked rather nervous.

"Maybe… or I could adopt you," he mumbled quietly, staring with determination at the ground. "If you divorced your parents I… well, it's just a thought," he tried to continue, before trailing off brokenly.

"And you would be my Dad?" she questioned. He nodded.

"You wouldn't have to think of me that way," he assured her.

"But, I would live with you? You'd look after me?" she clarified, her tone growing excited. He noted that she wasn't cringing with disgust at the idea, and a hopeful glimmer flickered in his eyes.

"I have plenty of room for you. And you would be able to go to Oxford if you wished, it's not that far to travel from my house," he pointed out slowly.

"And you'd be my new father? Not Dorr?"

"Eli, you do have to think about this –"

"Yes!" she cried joyfully. "Yes! I really want that, I do!" she assured him, tears sparkling in her dark eyes. His brows rose in surprise at her reaction.

"Really?" he questioned incredulously, to which she eagerly nodded. He bit back a happy laugh. "But you can't get your hopes up, your parents will either have to consent to my adopting you, or you'll have to divorce them, and the case might not be strong enough," he pointed out. "A – And social services will have to do a full check on me before they let me adopt you, they'll find out that I'm bi-polar. They don't tend to let unmarried, emotionally unstable men adopt sixteen year old girls," he added.

"I don't care! I won't let them stick a label on you like that!" she insisted. "And you can marry Toni, then we can be a family! A _real_ family!" she cried, practically exploding with joy.

"Eli, you're giving up a lot here, your country, your family, your home, are you sure –"

"I wasn't, but now I am," she interjected firmly. "I won't lie, it'll be hard not to go back to Australia, but if I did I'd be unhappy. If I stay, I'll have a chance to be normal, to be in a normal family of people that are together out of love, not spite or pride, and no one will judge me because of something that's supposed to be a 'gift' – I'll be normal, I can be happy," she explained, her heart feeling lighter than it had been for a very long time.

"We'll have to talk to your family, to Antoinette, to social services, maybe even to the courts, it won't be easy," he informed her warningly.

"I don't care. I want you as my Dad and I want Toni as my Mum and I want to stay in England – with Toni, Emilia, George, Darcy, and you," she insisted. He finally allowed a happy grin to appear on his face as he pulled her into a hug. "Social Services would be more likely to let this happen if you married Toni, you know," she pointed out slyly. Llewellyn laughed as he pulled away.

"Well, perhaps I'll be gaining a daughter_ and_ a wife from this," he said thoughtfully.

"But what should I call you?" she questioned suddenly. "I can't call you 'Sir' or 'Llewellyn'," she pointed out.

"Well, you could call me 'Howl'," he suggested.

"I've always called Francie and Dorr by their first names though," she murmured.

"Uhh… What about '_Tad'_ or '_Nada_'," he offered, speaking in a wonderfully flowery and incredibly beautiful language that Eli didn't understand. He chuckled at her confusion. "I grew up speaking Welsh. My parents were very old fashioned, and very firm to traditions," he informed her, his amber eyes sparkling with amusement.

"What does 'Nada' and 'Tad' mean?" she questioned curiously.

"They both mean 'Dad', I thought it would be a bit easier to swallow than something like '_t__adogwch_'," he laughed.

"I like 'Nada'," she said thoughtfully. "Would you mind that?" she asked carefully.

"Not at all," he smiled. "Now eat your muffin – those birds are eyeing it and they're quite intimidating," he advised.

Eli couldn't help but grin as she practically wolfed down her muffin.

She was going to be a part of a family.

_Finally_.

**A/N: Not long now! And don't worry, I fully endorse the concept of a happy ending. I'm not going to end this story all over the place with lots of angst and misery, I'll tie things up with a pretty little bow, but one or two of the things tied up in that bow will slip out in the sequel, sorry :S **

**Sophie: I'm flattered that you think writing fanfiction is a waste of my talents, but I have written three full-sized novels with my own characters, settings and plots, fanfiction is just a hobby for me, and it gives me the chance to work on my writing skills. If you go back and read my first fic '**_**sometimes you can't make it on your own**_**' you can clearly see that my writing has developed, because I wince to read that story now. Fanfiction is my way of learning to write. **

**And yes, I guess I do make references that not everyone would get, but they're not really that important, if they were, I would put a little author's note here and there. I'm pleased that you've noted that I've quotes Shakespeare several times, but I also think you might be misinterpreting a few things, I tend to make characters use terms 'thou' and 'thee' and 'art' occasionally. This is slang, not quotation. In my particular region (it's mainly restricted to my shire and some surrounding areas, my school included) we tend to use random bits of old English in our sentences, it's just… a habit, I guess, to write that in. And at my school quotation is a big thing, we do it several times a day and if you can recognise someone's quote then you get to feel smug all day. I don't **_**intend**_** to make my characters use the slang I use, but sometimes it just happens.**

**And I can understand your concern, because I did say that some of Eli's experiences with her label are based off mine, but Eli isn't me. We have some character similarities, but we're very different, I can assure you. It's not unimaginative, she's a creature of my mind. But only **_**some**_ **aspects of this story are based off my life. I never had a spider set loose on me, but I am terribly afraid of them. My family life at times resembles Eli's, but it's no where near as horrible! I love my parents, faults and all. I'd say I resembled Loli from my last story 'Sweet Lolita' the most out of all my characters. Or possibly Richard. Hmm. I'll think on that. **

**And yes, I am very descriptive of clothing, but that's just because I design clothing myself and I can clearly picture the outfits in my mind. I also agree that my story is self-indulgent, but I would advise you not to be so open about telling authors their stories are indulgent. I don't mind, because it is, but I'm very self-reflective and I can acknowledge that. It's a dangerous territory to tread into for writers who aren't as self-absorbed as I am and can't tell if their stories are indulgent or not, but I appreciate your honesty. And I have a bit of a perverted sense of humour :D But it's not imitated, it's just me, I'm afraid. **

**And finally, it'll take a great deal more than one review to intimidate me, but thank you for your concern. I hope you continue to enjoy the story :D **


	34. Feels like I'm Falling

"_This is the way you left me,_

_I'm not pretending,_

_No hope no love no glory,_

_No happy ending_

_This is the way that we love,_

_Like it's forever,_

_Then live the rest of our lives,_

_But not together,"_

_-_Mika, 'Happy Ending'

Toni resisted the urge to cry as she stepped into the spare room of her apartment. She was instantly surrounded by over a hundred painted canvases of every shape and colour, some from years ago, some that she had thrown in just last week to clear a bit of space.

But she was only searching for one.

The painting that never received a title was tucked away at the back, with an old sheet thrown over it. She slid it forwards, and propped it up against the wall, before pulling off the sheet in one quick movement, like ripping off a bandaid.

She had painted it just after she lost the baby, and tried to avoid looking at it. It was horrible, it was sad, and it was still too new for her to think about. It had been two years to that very day, but she would never feel ready to contemplate it.

Nothing seemed right anymore. Gone was any hope for her and Howl – he had just shut off completely from her. She didn't know what to do, she only wanted _him_. She had given up women, France, her family, everything for him, and he just didn't want her.

She wiped her cheeks as a sob escaped her lips. She couldn't look at the painting anymore, she just wanted to bury herself away from the world, she wanted to hide and cry and pretend that when she woke up, _he_ would be there next to her.

He was sitting in the lounge room when she left the spare room. He looked up when she saw him, and met her eyes with a soft smile.

"What are you doing here?" she gasped, unable to allow herself to hope, not after being disappointed so many times.

"Tried to kill myself yesterday."

"What? Why – why didn't you call me? Talk to me? I could have helped you!" she cried, feeling more tears slide over her cheeks.

"Because today is an anniversary that I didn't want to wake up to," he murmured simply. She felt her jaw slack and her eyes widen. "Yes, Antoinette, I knew about the baby," he nodded. "I didn't want to spend today in mourning. I just didn't want to exist," he sighed.

"It's been hard on me, too," she practically whispered.

"I know, cariad, and… _God_, I wish I hadn't been so selfish," he said earnestly.

"Did you let anyone know?" she asked softly.

"The hospital called George – but he knew without having to ask that I didn't want anyone to see me," he answered. "Eli came, though. She found out. We have a nice long talk in the park," he added.

"So she knows?" Toni questioned in surprise. He wasn't very forthcoming about his condition.

"Yes, I told her," he nodded. "She gave me some new perspective on a few things. And I think I was able to help her a little too," he informed her slowly. She sat down on the armchair opposite the couch he was seated on.

"Are her family still being horrible?" she questioned sadly. He sighed, and gave another nod.

"Her father tried to make her choose between returning to England and staying with Darcy," he informed her.

"He's a prick."

"I agree. But we came to a more constructive conclusion," he retorted. "She's going to seek legal separation from her parents. Hopefully with their cooperation, but she's prepared to divorce them if necessary," he explained.

"Wow… that's really big," Toni murmured.

"And I'm going to adopt her."

Had she been holding anything, Toni probably would have dropped it when those words came out of his mouth. He was fighting a grin, but she could see he was happy.

"That's wonderful!" she exclaimed in true honesty. She was happy for him. She just wished that she could make him happy too.

"The thing is, Social Services don't like single-parent adoptions, and Eli has been lacking in the mother department," he began, his grin growing. "And what with all that new perspective she gave me about things, and… well, the fact that I love you completely, totally, desperately, unconditionally and unwaveringly, I think that it's high time I stopped asking you to leave and started asking your forgiveness for the way I've treated you over the years," he stated, his amber eyes glowing with love and hope. "And if you give me that forgiveness, then I'd like to ask you something else, too," he murmured finally.

"Howl, you don't even need to ask for my forgiveness – it's already yours," she assured him firmly. He chuckled, and his smile grew.

"Good then. That means I can ask you the second question," he said cheerfully, pulling something from his pocket. He slid off the couch, and down to one knee before her.

"I am _so_ going to tease you about the whole 'down on one knee thing'," she assured him, trying to fight fresh, joyful tears falling from her eyes. Howl laughed, showing no such qualms about letting his fall.

"Only if it's your husband your teasing," he retorted, unable to stop from both laughing and crying as he opened the little velvet box, and held it out to her. In it sat the most perfect ring in the world. White gold, with a beautiful diamond in the centre, elegant, simple, she wouldn't want anything gaudy or ridiculous. "Antoinette, I – I love you… and I can't even describe how much. If you want it, my heart, my home, my life, it's all yours, and I'll do my best to try and ensure that you're happy," he promised softly, taking the ring from the box, and gently sliding it onto her finger. "I'm not giving you this because it'll make it easier to adopt Eli, I'm doing this because you're my whole world – I thought I could live without you but I just _can't,_ I just can't let you go again," he whispered shakily. "Please marry me. Please let me make up for every wrong that I've ever committed against you, and please stick around when I make many more – because I know I will. I know I'm going to screw up again, but I need to be selfish and request that you stick around to help me fix what I've broken," he murmured finally.

"I will," she managed to get out, biting her lip as she tried to hold back tears. "I will!" she declared, giving up on fighting the waterworks, and practically throwing herself into his arms. He laughed against her lips, and ran his hands through her short hair.

"What do you say to making some better memories for this day?" he suggested, resting his forehead against hers, and meeting her incredibly pale blue eyes with his amber ones.

"On my living room floor? Wow Professor, is this extra-credit or something?" she teased in response. Howl rolled his eyes, before silencing her with a very insistent kiss.

~ * ~

The knock of the front door reverberated around the entire apartment. Darcy rose from his place on the couch with his economics textbook to answer it – finding a very pleasant surprise waiting for him.

"Why, hello m'love," he greeted cheerfully, pulling his lovely girlfriend in for a short, but sweet kiss.

"How was the exam?" Eli questioned, as he wound his arms around her waist.

"I'm pretty confident that I didn't mess up. But they weren't as pleasant as this," he assured, pulling her into the apartment.

"I have something to tell you," she said, before she found herself resting against his chest on the couch.

"Is it how much you love and desire me?"

"Nice try," she retorted, rolling her eyes at his cockiness. He grinned, and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"If at first you don't succeed…" he trailed off.

"Then don't try skydiving," she advised. He laughed, obviously in very good spirits.

"Definitely not. What is it you wanted to tell me?" he questioned, moving the topic along.

Eli thought over her words before she responded. She decided not to tell him about Australia. He didn't need to know – it would only make him feel guilty.

"I've found a way that I can still be with you without us having to get married in Scotland," she began calmly. "I'm getting a separation from my parents, and Llewellyn is going to adopt me," she informed him, before going into silence, waiting for his response.

"He's going to adopt you…"

"Yep."

"And you'll live with him?"

"Uh-huh."

"Toni?"

"It's going to be lots of fun calling her 'Mummy' in a public place – people will think she got preggers when she was four," she grinned conspiratorially.

"So… I'm assuming he doesn't have a terminal illness?"

"He's bi-polar. I should have guessed it."

"And… you're sure about this?" he asked her carefully. She nodded firmly.

"I've said before that he's more of a father than Dorr ever was," she pointed out. He nodded slowly.

"I know, but… it's just weird," he murmured. "But if this is what you want, then I'll stand by you. I can understand that you don't want to get married yet, and I kind of think this is a good idea," he said finally, releasing a long breath.

"It means a lot to me," she assured him softly, turning her head, and meeting his lips in a firm but thankful kiss.

"So what's going to happen next year?" he questioned.

"I've already started writing up my application for Oxford – I want to study music and literature, not medicine or science," she informed him. "I'll live with Llewellyn and Toni, and we'll get to see each other everyday, Will," she assured him.

"What if I don't get into Oxford?" he questioned. Eli raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I doubt that," she replied simply, before sighing softly. "Will, this is going to work. I'm going to have a real family. Parents that love each other, and love _me_. And I'll be able to see you, and we won't be pressured into anything," she reasoned.

Despite these assurances, however, Darcy did seem to be slightly upset about something. He stared off at nothing in particular, his beautiful face creased with a slight frown line.

"Elizabeth, I want you to know right now that I love you," he murmured finally, after a long silence. "Insanely. Madly. What I feel for you is impossible to explain, I just… it's bigger than our lives, than this entire world, it's sometimes more than I can even bear," he continued, still not meeting her eyes. "I'm the kind of guy that never does things by halves. I don't – I don't know if I can share you. It's selfish, and I want you to be happy, but I just don't know if I can bear it," he explained slowly. Eli slid closer to him, and pressed a gentle kiss against his jawbone.

"I love you just as much as you love me, Will, so I understand what you mean," she whispered into the shell of his ear. She felt him shudder. "You want to know when we can get married, don't you," she questioned softly.

"I know that we're young, but I'm ready for this. I wasn't before, but I am _now_, I want to be your husband and I want you to be my wife," he responded, his voice quiet, as if he were ashamed of himself.

"Will, I know that this is going to be difficult," she admitted. "And I know that you want to get married right away. I _know _you're ready, but I'm not. I'm only sixteen, Will, I'm still just a kid. I'd like a chance to be a normal sixteen year old girl living in a normal family for a while. I don't want us to have to run away to Scotland to get married, I was thinking… maybe we wait till after University," she murmured, lowering her eyes. "I know that it seems a long time to wait, and you probably won't want to put off having sex for about four years, but – Will, I'm just not ready to get married, and I'm not ready to sleep with you yet," she confessed.

He hid back a sigh, and nodded.

"I understand. And I don't want you to think that I just want sex. I mean, I _do_ want to have sex with you –"

It was here that Eli felt a shiver run down her spine.

"– But I don't want to put you in a position where I'm taking more than you're willing to give," he explained quietly. "I want more than just sex, Eli. At first it was all I seemed to think about, but now most of my fantasies just seem to be of us talking, hanging out, spending the rest of our lives together," he continued honestly.

"Most?"

"I _am_ a nineteen-year-old male, Elizabeth, you can't expect me to be a saint," he responded with a teasing twinkle in his pale eyes. "I just – I don't want to push you. If you want to wait I'll wait. I'll wait till we're both a hundred years old if you want," he swore firmly.

"Ew. That just put a really horrible imagine in my mind."

"Probably shouldn't have said that. But do you get my point?" he asked her carefully. She nodded.

"I do. And maybe, if I'm ready before we finish Uni, we can forget the whole 'let's not have sex before we're married thing'. All I ask is that you wait," she requested.

"For you, anything. I'll wait as long as we need," he promised, pulling her into a kiss.

_So I've told Darcy_, she thought to herself,_ just the parentals left now_.

~ * ~

"Are you scared?" Darcy asked quietly as he passed Eli a glass of hot Milo. She nodded.

"What time did Llewellyn say he'd be here?" she asked for the third time, her tone sounding very distracted.

"He'll be here in half an hour, Elizabeth," he said calmly. "You just need to relax, I'm sure your parents have been expecting it," he pointed out. "I mean, they're probably a bit suspicious of the fact that you've been staying at Emilia's for three days," he added.

"George is right. That girl _never_ sleeps," Eli muttered, before taking a nervous sip of Milo. "I know, but this is really big. I'm going to be telling my parents that I don't like them anymore, and want new ones. I don't know how they're going to take it," she explained anxiously. Darcy sighed, and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"I'm sure they'll understand. You're a free spirit, they know that they can't control you forever," he pointed out. She bit her lip nervously. "Are you sure you don't want me there?"

"It'd only make it harder, Will. You know it would," she practically whispered in response, beginning to pace.

"Relax, Eli! Sit down, play the piano for a while," he advised, desperately trying to calm his anxious love. She took a deep breath, and sat down on the piano stool. "Play me that song you did before. Have you written lyrics to it?" he questioned, walking over to sit beside her.

"Huh? Oh, yes, I did," she murmured distractedly.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Will you play it for me?" he requested.

"Oh! Umm, I'm not sure," she responded awkwardly. "It's very emo."

"I'd like to hear it," he stated earnestly.

"Oh… err, alright," she murmured, setting her glass of Milo down on the top of the piano. "But I warned you," she added firmly, before she began to play.

"_Sparkling grey, they're my own veins,  
Any more than a whisper, any sudden movement of my heart,  
And I know, I know I'll have to watch them pass away,_

'_Just get through this day'_

'_Give up your way, you could be anything,'  
Give up my way, and lose myself, not today,  
That's too much guilt to pay _

_  
Sickened in the sun, you dare tell me you love me?  
But you held me down and screamed, you wanted me to die,  
Honey you know, you know I'd never hurt you that way  
You're just so pretty in your pain_

_  
Give up my way, and I could be anything,  
I'll make my own way, without your senseless hate,  
_

_So run, run, run  
And hate me, if it feels good,  
I can't hear your screams anymore  
You lied to me, but I'm older now  
And I'm not buying baby,  
Demanding my response, don't bother breaking the door down  
I found my way out,  
And you'll never hurt me again,_"

Her playing came to an end, and she removed her hands from the piano. Darcy instantly pulled her to his chest and pressed his lips against her forehead.

"I'm so sorry that I never stopped him from hurting you," he murmured into her hair.

"It's alright. Pretty soon, it won't matter. I'll have a new family," she replied softly, just before they heard a knock on the door, signalling the arrival of Toni and Llewellyn to take her to her parent's house. She took a deep breath. "So… here it goes," she murmured finally.

The drive to Eli's parent's home took less time than she expected – all too soon she was pushing open the front door and stepping inside her familiar prison.

"Oh, Miss Elisabet! You are back!" Helena cried cheerfully. Eli gave her a weak smile. "And you brought friends! May I take your coats?" she asked Llewellyn and Toni pleasantly.

"No, thank you," Llewellyn murmured, clearly quite perturbed by her.

"I'm perfectly happy with mine on," Toni assured her kindly. Helena bobbed her head, and then disappeared to return to her duties.

"She's too pleasant. Why is everyone too pleasant?" Llewellyn questioned anxiously. Toni rolled her eyes.

"You can't go in there in a bad mood," she hissed to him.

"I'm not in a bad mood! Maids frighten me, that's all," he defended himself sheepishly.

"Eli, hun, turn around for a second," Toni requested politely. Eli raised a questioning brow, before Toni gripped Llewellyn's tie, and pulled him towards her in a rather intense kiss. Eli instantly covered her eyes with her hands.

"Can I open my eyes yet?" she questioned doubtfully.

"Of course, hun," Toni said finally. Eli took in the pair before her. Llewellyn was quickly attempting to smooth his now ruffled hair back with a bit of a dazed look on his face, and Toni was checking her lipstick in the reflection of her phone's screen. "It always perks him up. But I wouldn't advise you try it," she informed her simply, when regarding her questioning, and slightly disgusted expression.

"Please don't do that in front of me again," she requested, her tone revealing that she was slightly scarred. Toni hid a grin.

"Well then, shall we get this show on the road?" she suggested cheerfully.

"Sounds like a good idea. Where would your parents be, Eli?" Llewellyn asked, sounding much happier already.

"Uhh… Dorr will probably be in his study," she replied, before ducking her head into the living room. "Umm, Helena? Where are Dorr and Francie?" she questioned the maid, who was dusting like her life depended on it.

"Mister Bennett is in his study, Missus Francine is in the kitchen," she answered diligently.

"Would you mind asking her to meet us in Dorr's study?" Eli requested timidly.

"Of course, Miss Elisabet! Right away!" she declared, disappearing off in search of the Mistress of the house.

"Dorr's study is this way," she informed Toni and Llewellyn, who looked like they had continued their little practise of 'cheering up' each other when her head was turned. She led them down the familiar hall to the familiar door guarding the familiar room, and knocked quietly.

"Enter."

"Now or never," Llewellyn muttered to her. Eli took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.

"Hmm. The prodigal child returns," she heard Dorr snap as she stepped into view. He was sitting behind his desk with some big fat novel on his lap, his spectacles sitting on the end of his nose.

"I need to talk to you and Francie," Eli stated calmly. "And I'm not the only one," she added, as Llewellyn and Toni stepped into the room. Dorr raised a brow in curiosity.

"You're her music teacher," he stated blankly, regarding Llewellyn with a very cool glance.

"Yes, I am," he replied simply.

"And who are you?" Dorr questioned Toni, his eyes greedily taking in her beautiful features.

"Antoinette Noëlle," she answered. Growing a bit annoyed at the older man's staring, she added to her statement, "Howl's fiancée."

"Well? What's going on here?" Francie's sharp voice questioned.

"You tell me. Your daughter has just dragged two strangers into my study with no explanation," Dorr retorted as his wife stepped into the room.

"We're here to discuss a rather delicate matter with you," Llewellyn began calmly. "Perhaps it's best we all sit down," he advised.

"Lovely. He's telling me what to do in my own home," Dorr grumbled beneath his breath.

"Dorian, let the man speak," Francie snapped, taking in how handsome Llewellyn was with an eager eye, but he didn't seem to notice her glances at all. "Please, take a seat."

Eli felt rather awkward as she sat down on one of the many chairs scattered around the desk, folding her hands in her lap. She said nothing as Llewellyn and Toni followed her example, waiting in silence for someone to begin.

"Eli?" Llewellyn murmured quietly. She met his eyes, and he gave her a comforting smile and a nod. She chewed her lip – she knew it would be better if she said it, but she didn't know if she could.

"What's all this about? You've been staying with your friend for three nights now, are you ever coming home?" Dorr snapped, regarding his daughter with a cool expression. Eli raised her head, and met his eyes.

"No."

Dorr looked somewhat startled, but he hid it well.

"I've had Helena pack your things. The flight is booked out for the end of next week – you need to sign the application to Sydney University before you go upstairs," he stated, as if he hadn't heard her at all.

"Dorr – I'm not going to Australia," she said calmly.

"We've purchased a new place in Manly, close enough to the city but still on the beach," he continued, once more ignoring her completely. Eli couldn't help but feel angered at this, she was a real human being – she deserved his consideration!

"Dorr – I'm staying in England, and there's nothing you can do to stop me," she said firmly, clenching her jaw tightly. She glanced at Francie momentarily, she looked distant, and for once in her life, thoughtful.

"Oh really? And how do you think that's going to happen then?" he questioned snappishly. "You're sixteen – still a minor, and I make the decisions in this family. You can send your friends out, you're just wasting my time," he said curtly, turning back to his book.

"Mister Bennett, Elizabeth fully intends on remaining in England," Llewellyn said calmly.

"What the hell do you know? She's _my_ daughter, not yours," Dorr snapped angrily. "I know what's best for her – I _raised_ her, you have no right to just come in here and –"

"He does have a right," Eli interrupted him with anger. "He has a right because even though I'm not his daughter, I want to be! I want him to be my father and I want you to let him adopt me!" she cried finally.

Clearly Dorr and Francie weren't expecting that. Francie's eyes widened and she raised her hand to cover her gasp, and Dorr simply paled.

"Obviously this is going to be difficult to understand for the both of you, but… this is what Eli wants, and we want it to," Llewellyn said calmly, taking Toni's hand in his. "Of course it'll all be done formally, there will need to be a few meetings with social services, and there are several forms involved, but if we get started right away, you might be able to still catch your flight back to Sydney after it's all taken care of," he continued, trying to keep his tone level.

"What the hell is this?" Dorr questioned angrily, his voice low and practically trembling with rage. "Get out of my house! Both of you! How dare you turn up unannounced, and expect me to just give my daughter to you two strangers!" he cried furiously.

"Dorr, they're not strangers, I know and love both of them and I know that they love me back," Eli replied, feeling her bottom lip quiver as she attempted to remain composed. She felt Llewellyn reach for her hand and give it a comforting squeeze, which gave her the strength to go on. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way – but I'm not going back to Australia and I'm not letting you boss me around for one minute longer," she swore firmly.

"Please understand, Mister Bennett, we aren't trying to take your daughter away from you," Toni began. "We both want what's best for her, and if we thought that going back to Australia where she'd be miserable and lonely was the best thing for her then we'd let her go, but it's not, _this_ is what's best for Eli," she pleaded.

"I have a house just outside of Rosings Park, she'd be able to go to Oxford every day, if that was what she wished," Llewellyn threw in. "There's plenty of room for her, I'm more than able to support her financially, I'll make sure that she won't want for anything," he assured him. Dorr looked – for the first time Eli had ever seen – actually _confused_, looking wildly from face to face as they spoke.

"And the legal process shouldn't take too long, you both need to sign that you agree to renounce custody over her, and that you're alright with Howl and I adopting her, we've already spoken to social services, so it's really just a matter of signing things," Toni continued.

"This is the best solution, Eli can remain in England and she won't have to move in with a friend or go into care," Llewellyn added.

"And if we don't agree to this?" Dorr snapped coldly.

"Then I'll file for a parental divorce, and you'll be forced to stay here until the courts settle this," Eli swore vehemently, trying to keep tears from brimming in her eyes. She was, after all, separating herself from her parents.

"We _raised_ you, and this is what you give us in return?" Dorr questioned incredulously, his eyes wide with anger and another emotion that she just couldn't place on him.

"I've been miserable for years, and I – I've finally found a place where I belong, people who I love more than myself, and people who love me because I'm _me_, not because some doctor in Sydney decided that I'm different from others!" she objected.

"This is about that boy! That _Darcy_ boy!" Dorr practically spat at her.

"I won't deny that he isn't a part of it, because he is and I love him," she responded honestly. "I love him more than I love myself, more than I love Australia and more than I love _music_, he's my entire world and you can't take me away from him," she continued firmly, practically shaking with pent-up emotions. "I'm sick and tired of pitying myself because I never felt like I belonged! I hate being unhappy all the time because I never seem to live up to your standards – I'm a human being and you forgot that the moment that you dragged me into that hospital when I was five, I'm not a doll for you to play with!" she cried angrily.

"Eli, please, this isn't helping," Llewellyn tried to calm her softly.

"No! No, I _need_ to say this!" she responded, holding back a sob as she turned back to her father. "I always blamed everything horrible that happened in my life on my label, and then I realised that it's not my 'labels' fault – there's only a label if I let there be one and I'm not going to let something that's only brought me misery define me!" she cried, feeling hot, fat tears roll down her pale cheeks as she spoke. "You never loved _me_, you saw me as a project, you pushed me and I just _let_ you – I was weak and I wanted you to love me so badly that I went along with it, but I'm not _weak_ anymore! I don't have to be lonely anymore, I have a boyfriend who loves me, friends who are always there for me, and these two people sitting next to me are the most beautiful, wonderful people in the world and I want nothing more than to be their daughter!" she cried quickly, words spilling out of her mouth with passion and force.

She felt Llewellyn give her hand another soft squeeze of support.

"You never wanted me – I know I was an accident and I know I should have been a boy, but I'm _not_, and I'm not obedient or beautiful, I'm _me_, and that's enough for them. Please, _please_, give me this," she begged softly. "Let me be happy. You owe me, for all the pain you two have put me through my whole life, I don't want to seem ungrateful, but you just… _never_ listened. I know this is hard – but it's what I want, so _please_ just give me this one last thing," she finished softly.

"I can't just let two strangers –"

"Yes," Francie murmured, interrupting Dorr suddenly. Her eyes were filled with tears, and she seemed to be showing emotion that Eli didn't know she was capable of. "We'll sign everything that needs to be signed, they can have custody of you," she granted her softly.

"Francine! We can't –"

"Dorian, she's _right_," she interrupted once again, turning to her husband with a very sorrowful expression. "We didn't do right by her, you were always bitter that she was smarter than you and pushed her because you knew that one day she would snap, and I was bitter too – she wasn't the boy that we wanted and she certainly wasn't the daughter that _I _wanted. I tried to push her too, but we've always known that she's stronger than that. We knew this was coming," she said softly.

"She's a _Bennett_!"

"But she doesn't want to be."

Dorr sighed, and turned away from his wife. He swallowed.

"We don't know them," he reminded Francie.

"Eli does, and if they were axe murderers then social services won't let them adopt her," Francie reasoned.

"Don't you care about what people will say?" he sneered curtly.

"They can say what they want, I won't be sticking around to listen to them," she answered simply. "Dorian, we considered adoption a long time ago. We both know that we can't give her what she needs," she continued reasonably.

"It's the principle that matters!" Dorr objected angrily, slamming his hand atop the table firmly.

"No. It's Eli that matters," was all Francie replied.

Eli was in complete and total shock. Who would have known that Francie could be so considerate! She was _calm_, she was actually considering other human beings!

"Fine. Take her. Bring me the forms and I'll give you my child," Dorr snapped finally, rising from his desk, and storming out the library door. Francie sighed as she watched him go.

"He's bitter. And cold. He doesn't understand… but I'm his wife, I have to stand by him," she murmured quietly. "He was always jealous of you, Eli, because you were talented and 'gifted' and he had to work his whole life to be half of what you are. I'm not an idiot – I know that we've been horrible parents, I'm glad you get the chance to start anew," she sighed, folding her hands in her lap. "Do you have any children?" she asked the silent couple.

"We – we lost a baby two years ago," Llewellyn murmured quietly, speaking after Toni had ducked her head to stare with determination at her shoes. "I know how hard it is to lose a child, but this is the best thing for Eli, and that's all we want," he assured her firmly.

"I'm sorry about your loss. But I never really had Eli, so losing her… it's not the same. It hurts, but only because I know that it's _our_ fault she was unhappy for so long. It's not the same – your pain is worse than what mine could ever be," she answered quietly.

"Thank you, Francie," Eli whispered finally. Francie met her eyes, and nodded.

"We'll need to have a meeting with someone from social services as we go over the details, but… thank you for this, Mrs Bennett," Llewellyn said quietly.

"Just look after her. That's all I ask," Francie finished.

"We will," Llewellyn promised sincerely. Francie gave a weak, thankful smile at that, before returning her gaze to her hands.

Eli didn't get a chance to speak with Dorr that day. They left after arranging a meeting with a social worker for the next day to discuss the details of the arrangement, but she didn't see him at all as they walked out of the house.

"Come here," Llewellyn demanded gently, as they walked out to his car, Eli biting her lip to keep from crying. She allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace as he wrapped comforting arms around her. She allowed herself a small sob against his chest. "It's alright. No one will force you to do this, Eli," he assured her softly, smoothing back her hair in the way that a father would, but she had never really experienced.

"No, I want this," she sniffled quietly. "It's just… hard. To see them, and to know – I – I'm not _ungrateful_, they raised me, but – but I just…" she trailed off sadly.

"Babe, whatever happens, you know that Howl and I both love you, and even if this doesn't go through, you'll still have us, we'll still be sticking around for you," Toni assured her gently, resting her head against Llewellyn's shoulder and taking Eli's hand in hers. "You have friends who love you, a boyfriend who thinks the world of you, and even though there's not much left for you in that house, you'll _always_ have someone here who loves you," she continued gently.

"Why couldn't you two have been my _real_ parents?" Eli sniffled sadly.

"Well… because I would have been fourteen, and I would have had to impregnate Antoinette when she was four, and the law isn't that fond of that," Llewellyn replied teasingly. Eli laughed, and wiped her eyes.

"Thank you so much for this. Both of you. It – it means so much to me," she murmured softly. Llewellyn gave her a soft smile, and Toni pushed her hair back from her face.

"It means a lot to us too, hun. You're pretty darn special," she assured her.

"Come on, I'm sure young William wants to hear how it went," Llewellyn declared. Eli nodded, wiped her eyes, and slid into the backseat of the car.

She smiled as she saw Llewellyn and Toni share a brief kiss before they too got in. Francie and Dorr never did that, they never really cared about each other.

She _was_ sad, she could admit, the whole process wasn't a happy event, but she _did_ really want to be the daughter of Llewellyn and Toni.

**A/N: Song used is 'The Last Song I'm Wasting on You' by Amy Lee. I'm updating a few hours early as I have to go to work soon and I don't want you guys to wait that much longer, you've all been so patient so far! :D We're nearly at the end, and then the sequel! Yay!**

**I kind of get the impression that people love the relationship between Emilia and George more than they do Eli and Darcy. The poll on my author's page (which is still open for your favourite character) would suggest as so, but it really wasn't what I was expecting. I'm very glad for it, though!**


	35. A New Nest

"_And in the end what hurt the most_

_Has been resolved and reversed,_

_And I know it's not what you said_

_It's like the letter I just sat and read_

_Finally, finally, finally, finally…_

_You found something so good,"_

-The Frames, 'Finally'

"Now Elizabeth, do you think you understand everything that's happening?" the polite, kind-eyed social worked questioned with a soft, comforting smile. Eli nodded firmly.

"Yes. I do," she assured her.

"You understand that if you decide to go through with this, you'll –"

"Please, I know everything. I know how big this is, but it's what I want," Eli said firmly. The social worker smiled, warmth sparkling in her dark eyes.

"And you're sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Well alright then, I think we should go see how things are going," she declared brightly, standing up from behind the brightly coloured desk in a cheerful looking room, toys, puzzles and a small TV sitting in the corner, childish paintings framed and adoring the walls. "Now Elizabeth, you don't have to be present, but would you like to be there when the final custody papers are signed?" the woman questioned.

"Uhhh… yes," she decided finally.

"Have you made any decisions about your name?" the woman asked carefully, as they started to walk down the hallway of the social services department.

"Yes. Llewellyn said it was okay if I took his last name," she answered instantly. The social worked beamed, obviously trying to be kind and supportive. Eli had been so shaken over the past two weeks that she really did appreciate it.

Everything had been very hectic since she had spoken to Francie and Dorr. She had barely seen them at all, and even then, Dorr refused to speak to her. He had postponed the return to Australia so he could sign the forms, but he, Francie, Lyla, Katie and Jay would be flying out that night after the final red tape was cut through.

She had been sleeping at Emilia's for over two weeks now, and as much as she appreciated being near to someone she was so close with, her father was a bit difficult to deal with. He was an _incredible_ hypochondriac, and _everything_ was sterilised. She was very sick of eating nothing but porridge and tea! She wondered how Emilia had lasted so long, but then she realised that it probably explained why Em spent so much time with George; he had a fully stocked fridge.

Everyone had been incredibly supportive. Lyla and Katie had given her a card and hugs, saying that even though they never knew her (or liked her, which was just another indication that perhaps Eli never really _did_ belong in that family) they would be sad to lose their little sister. Jay muttered out a few words, then returned to snogging Richard (Christian had dumped her when he found out she was returning to Australia, and Richard didn't give a damn that she had grown rather cruel, he happily admitted that personality wasn't that important to him, and she would be returning to Australia anyway), but she hadn't expected much more.

Will had been the best boyfriend anyone could ever want. He was kind, attentive and very supportive, he was always there at every meeting, waiting for her after every upsetting interview, they would talk and he would make her laugh, they would go out with Georgie and do something distracting so she didn't have to think about how horrible the whole separation from her birth-family would be, only focusing on how wonderful it would be to finally move in with Llewellyn and Toni.

They had both been fantastic as well. She had been spending a lot of time with the couple, and her decision to be their daughter was looking to be a better one everyday. She couldn't imagine two people more in love with each other, more caring or considerate. Llewellyn was impossibly kind and good-natured, and Toni was brilliant. They had been spending a lot of time redecorating the spare bedroom in Llewellyn's house (which was very cool. He had a music room almost as big as the one at Pemberley, there were books _everywhere_, and he even had a dog), Toni was a brilliant artist and had painted a mural of the Australian coast on Eli's wardrobe doors. It really did feel like home for her already.

"Mister Llewellyn, Miss Noëlle, you can have her back now," the social worker announced as they came into view of the couple.

"Ooh, did they use torture?" Toni questioned excitedly, bounding up to Eli. She was doing a fantastic job of hiding her nervousness, they still had to get the all clear from the social worker in charge of their case, and they were awaiting the verdict before both parties gave their final signatures.

"Oh yeah, they made me spill all of your deep dark secrets," Eli retorted teasingly, accepting the older woman's hug.

"Oh dear, you told them that I'm secretly a ninja? Great, now we'll _never_ get to keep you," she sighed playfully.

"If you three would just like to wait out here, I'll check if Mrs Foster is finished," the pleasant social worker announced, giving them a comforting smile, before disappearing behind one of the doors that seemed to be in endless supply.

"How are you holding up, cariad?" Llewellyn asked with a quiet smile, turning back to Eli.

"I'm good. I'm very excited," she replied. "A bit nervous… but mostly excited," she confessed. He laughed.

"I'd be concerned if you weren't. But I'm sure it's all going to be fine," he assured her warmly.

"You can come in now," the social worker announced, popping her head out from behind the door.

"Ready?" Toni questioned, in her best 'prepared for anything' voice.

"As I'll ever be," Eli responded, before she followed the two into the room.

Francie and Dorr were already seated behind the long mahogany desk, a stately looking woman with surprisingly soft eyes sitting on the other side, files and forms piled before her.

"Good day Mister Llewellyn, Miss Noëlle, Elizabeth," the woman, Mrs Foster greeted politely as they sat down. Francie gave Eli a kind smile, but Dorr refused to make eye-contact. "Now this is just the final formality. Elizabeth, if you agree to allow this, when Mister Llewellyn and Miss Noëlle sign this form, that means that they're your lawful guardians," Mrs Foster announced, keeping her tone simple, kind, but somewhat patronising.

"Yes, that's what I want," she answered immediately.

"Alright, Mr and Mrs Bennett, you need to sign here," Mrs Foster declared, pushing one form towards the silent couple. Once they had signed, she pushed the form over to Toni and Llewellyn. "And you both need to sign here, here, and initial here," she continued, handing them separate forms. Once they had finished, they passed them back to her. "And if you could all sign this last statement," she requested, as one last form went around the group. Eli held her breath as it finally reached Toni and Llewellyn.

The sound of a pen scratching the surface of a paper was the sound of Eli's freedom.

"Congratulations, Mister Llewellyn, Miss Noëlle, you are now the legal parents of Elizabeth Aurélie Juliet Grey Noëlle-Llewellyn," Mrs Foster stated calmly.

Eli immediately launched herself into the arms of her new parents, feeling hot tears of relief slide over her cheeks. Llewellyn laughed with more happiness than she had ever heard him convey, and Toni was babbling in joyful French.

"Congratulations, both of you," Francie said sincerely when Eli pulled away.

"Thank you, thank you _so_ much for giving me this," Eli practically whispered, hugging Francie to assure her that there were no ill-tidings between them. "I'll still stay in contact, and I'll visit you when I go to Australia again. I won't forget you," she continued.

"This is all well and good, but we have a flight to catch," Dorr snapped, finally rising to his feet.

"And we should probably get going too, Emilia and George planned that whole thing," Toni added, as they all stood.

The waiting room seemed to be full of people. Lyla, Katie, Jay, William, George, Emilia, Georgiana, they were all there, waiting patiently.

"Is it finished? Did you get the all-clear?" Emilia questioned anxiously, jumping up from her chair the moment they stepped into the room. Eli nodded, fighting a grin, and laughed aloud as her friend squealed excitedly and pulled her into a tight hug.

"Congratulations you two," George said warmly, embracing both Llewellyn and Toni warmly.

"You tell me you swing this way _now_, of all times, George?" Llewellyn questioned teasingly, pulling out of his friend's hug.

"Well I suppose you'll have to cancel the wedding, sorry Toni," George sighed playfully.

"Hell no, he said I can wear a pink dress," Toni beamed.

"I said I would _consider_ it!" Llewellyn clarified, to which she rolled her pale eyes.

"Well I'm not wearing white, that's too overdone!" she retorted. Llewellyn sniggered, whispered something in her ear, and Toni went bright red. "Shutup. I'm totally divorcing you already," she threatened, but was unable to fight the grin on her lips.

"When is the wedding?" Francie asked politely, surprising them all.

"Just before the Christmas holidays. We want to give Eli a few months to settle before we disappear for two weeks, and we'll be back in time to spend Christmas together as a family," Llewellyn replied, wrapping an arm loosely around Toni's waist.

"Have you decided on a place for the honeymoon?" she inquired pleasantly, sounding as though she were actually _curious_.

"We were thinking Spain or something equally cliché," Toni replied with a grin.

"You'll have to have a look at my website, I've got a whole section devoted to weddings," Francie commented, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

"I already have, Eli told me to have a look. It gave me a _whole_ heap of ideas," she responded.

"Email me sometime, I can give you some more tips and some good names to throw around at the right stores, you'll get a huge discount if you mention my editor at _Vogue_," Francie assured her. "And… I'd like to hear how Elizabeth is keeping," she added. Toni smiled.

"Of course I will," she promised firmly.

"Alright, we'll see you later kiddo," Lyla declared, jumping up from her seat after spending the past five minutes texting.

"Come to Australia when you can drink," Katie advised. Eli rolled her eyes, but didn't comment, only gave them a small smile.

"Say goodbye to Richard for me," Jay requested, and then, without a smile of kind word, she followed her younger sisters down the hall.

"We'd better get going," Francie sighed, pulling Eli in for one last hug. "Be happy," she requested quietly. Eli nodded, and promised firmly that she would be, before the woman that had given birth to her followed her daughters down the hall, prattling on about how they might be able to get in a little shopping before their flight. Eli shook her head and laughed, they would never change.

"We should all get going too, I've planned one _hell_ of a –"

"Em, _Georgie_?" George reminded her companion sternly.

"Oops, sorry about that hun," Emilia giggled, patting Georgiana's bouncing brown curls. "Well, we've got a really _good_ party planned as a celebration at George's apartment, so we should all get going so we aren't too tired to make idiots of ourselves on the karaoke," she declared firmly.

"You guys go ahead, I just want a minute," Eli instructed, glancing over to Dorr, who was standing silent in the corner.

"We'll be in the carpark," Llewellyn murmured quietly, noting her glance.

"See you in a second hun," Toni added, before joining the herd of people leaving the waiting room. Eli stepped quietly over to her former father.

"I am sorry, you know," Dorr admitted begrudgingly after a short pause had fallen between them. He sighed. "I can admit that I was never the best of fathers. But I am sorry that I never… I shouldn't have made your life so miserable, and I'm sorry that I did. I'm glad you've found some people who will do a better job than Francine or I ever could," he murmured.

"Every crappy thing you've ever done, every bit of affection you shied away from and every cruel thing you've said…" Eli began slowly. "This makes up for all of it. Giving me the chance to have a new life with Llewellyn and Toni, with _William_, it means a lot to me, and it's more important than the hugs you never gave me or all the extra work you made me do in school," she murmured. "You weren't the father that I wanted, but I wasn't the daughter that _you_ wanted, and… well, we all make mistakes. But this makes up for that, so you don't need to apologise. This is the most beautiful, wonderful thing you could have ever given me," she assured him. A ghost of a smile flickered on Dorr's face.

"Thank you for saying that," he muttered quietly. "Well, I'd better get going. You – I didn't expect this, or want it, but I couldn't imagine giving you away to any man more deserving," he said softly. Eli frowned.

"Don't you mean –"

"No, Elizabeth. Your music teacher and the little French girl weren't the ones that finally claimed you. They'll be your parents until the day you die, but you and I both know that the Darcy boy is the real reason you want to stay," he interrupted her. "I've never been in love, but… I've read about it. I know it doesn't sound like much, but I'm glad that you finally got the ridiculous happy endings that people simper on about," he sighed. "He's a good boy. I hope you're happy with him," he said finally.

"I am. I love him. I do love him, Dorr, and I know that we're young but… you have to understand, Australia could have never come near to being more important to me, neither could my family or music, what I feel for him transcends place and time and the only thing that can possibly limit it is _life_ itself!" she tried to explain, her voice filled with passion and honesty and love. "It was never a competition. But if it were… God, Dorr, he's my _soul_, my heart, my life, he's everything. I wouldn't want to live without him, and I don't think I could. This isn't infatuation, it's… indescribable. You need to understand –"

"I know, Elizabeth, and I won't lose any sleep over this. I could never have won, you deserved more. Just give yourself a chance to be a part of a family before you make any big commitments to him," he advised with a sigh.

"I can't do that. He has my soul, he _is_ my soul, and there's nothing bigger than that. I _want_ to be a part of a family for a while, but I'm prepared to wait for William because I know that he feels the same way. We'll have the rest of our lives, the rest of eternity together," she replied softly. "He's my everything, Dorr, there's no competition, only my love for him," she added quietly.

"I had better go. Have a good rest of your life," he said finally, pressing a white envelope into her hand, giving her a short nod, and turning away. Eli watched him go with a little sadness.

She had lied, she didn't know if there was anything he _could_ do to make up for what he put her through, but she wasn't so cruel as to torture him like that.

He wasn't her father anymore, just a guy that she used to know.

That thought wasn't as sad as she had expected it would be.

"I _will_ miss you," she found herself murmuring as he left. She turned to the envelope in her hand, and slid the top open.

Inside was a check that held every last cent in her trust fund – over fifty thousand pounds.

_Shit_, Eli thought to herself. _That's a bit of a shocker_.

~ * ~

Dorian Bennett cursed himself as he felt an unfamiliar feeling, _tears_ threatening his eyes.

He had just lost his daughter. His child. But it was his own fault, his own _damn_ fault.

'_You've got three others and a wife to make it up to, Dorian,_' he thought to himself as he stepped into the empty elevator.

Fingers crossed he wouldn't screw up on them, too.

~ * ~

"Hey," Darcy greeted her softly later that night, as the party was wearing down at George's apartment, and conversation had turned to a happy, contented murmur. Eli turned her head, and regarded the love of her life with a small smile.

"Hey stranger," she greeted, patting the place on the couch beside her.

"I was thinking we should go for a walk," he mused aloud. Eli raised a brow.

"Alright, I'll just tell my parents," she replied, fighting a grin as she rose to her feet and headed over to the couch near the large window giving a beautiful of the midnight sky. Llewellyn sat comfortably with Toni atop his lap, playing with his hands. "Will and I are just going to go for a walk in the park," she informed them.

"Use protection!" Toni peeped out playfully. Llewellyn sniggered and Eli burned red.

"_Totally_ not funny," she retorted, but she couldn't help but grin.

"Take your jumper, and try not to get mugged," Llewellyn rephrased Toni's interjection with a small smile.

"I'll try my best," Eli assured him, turning back to her waiting companion.

Their fingers entwined comfortably as they headed out of the building, indulging in a happy quiet. They strolled over to the same bench they had sat on all those months ago, taking a seat, Eli resting her head against his shoulder.

"I never said, but I'm very proud of you," Darcy announced suddenly.

"Huh?"

"You've grown up. Matured. Filled into those expectations that everyone had of you," he rephrased quietly. "These past two weeks must have been very hard for you, and you handled it beautifully. You did something that must have been impossibly difficult, not to mention the way you persevered this year, no matter what was thrown at you," he murmured. "I – I'm in awe, Elizabeth. You're so brave for starting over, for doing the right thing. I wanted to run away to Scotland and get married right away, but you were the one that understood that despite our feelings, we aren't ready for it yet, and… I always expected that _I_ would be the strong one in this relationship," he explained quietly. "But it's you. It's _always_ been you. I've been an idiot this year and – well, I'm just glad that we get a chance to start over too," he added.

"I have grown up, haven't I," she said thoughtfully, staring out onto the surface of the black pond, where it reflected the billions of stars shining in the endless sky.

"I thought that because I didn't deserve your forgiveness, I didn't need it," he said suddenly. "I was wrong, Eli. I _need_ it, I need to know that a part of you doesn't still hate me for what I've done to you, but – even if you don't forgive me, even if you _never_ do, neither God or Satan or Heaven or Hell could ever keep me away from you, the only thing that could would be your will for it," he murmured passionately, as if there were some fire burning in his chest that was slowly turning him into ash, and as if _she_ were the water dousing the flames. Eli felt powerful to know that she held his very soul in her hands, but she had no desire to abuse it.

"I do, Will. I _do_ forgive you," she replied softly. "I love you. How can't I? How could I live knowing that I was causing you pain by _not_ forgiving you?" she questioned incredulously as he raised his head. "You could kill me and I would still forgive you, hating you would be like hating myself, like hating every inch of my soul, and I couldn't do that – maybe I'm vain but I can't hate you, because you make up who _I _am," she explained, her voice trembling.

"Do you mean that?" he questioned doubtfully, meeting her dark eyes with his pale, almost violet ones.

"Yes, Will, I do. I do because I love you," she murmured. He pulled her to his chest immediately and pressed his lips against hers in a firm embrace, and she reciprocated with all the love she could feel in her heart.

Yes, she had said goodbye to her birth-parents that day, she had changed her name and her identity, but all that was insignificant compared to how she felt held in his arms. She had gone home, and she didn't have to climb on a plane to Sydney, she just had to hold him, to be held by him. He was all she needed.

Two loving parents and two incredibly amazing friends who would always be there for her?

That was just a plus.

**A/N: Only the epilogue left to go! And then it will be on to the sequel! :D **

**A few people have been giving me some 'tips' and 'advice' recently, and I'm not offended that you do so, I really love it, but I **_**am**_** offended that you believe I will be offended. That didn't make sense… I don't have a problem with constructive criticism, I **_**welcome**_** it. But please don't spend half the review begging me not to get upset and hoping that you won't 'intimidate' me in a review. I'm not the kind of girl that gets freaked out by a little bit of criticism, guys, and (this is the bit where I get teenager-ish) I'm kind of upset that you think I'll burst into tears with one little helpful hint. Because then I don't get the impression of someone trying to help me, I get the impression that the reviewer doesn't respect me as a writer and as an individual who is able to accept help. I make a lot of mistakes. My grammar and spelling leave a lot wanting, my plots can seem a little all-over the place, I rush some bits because to be perfectly honest, I doubt anyone is interested in Eli's angst over the three weeks that she hadn't seen William, and yes, my stories do tend to end happily, because it's fanfiction and I enjoy occasionally catering to the masses who crave happy endings, and indeed, my stories **_**are**_** immature. I don't want to be too obvious about the reasons, but I **_**AM**_** SIXTEEN (I mean this in an anti-stereotypical way, not all sixteen-year-olds are as immature as I am), I **_**am**_** spoilt and indulged, and yes, my characters are going to be immature, but they usually tend to develop out of that during the process of the story.**

**I'm not asking that you stop giving me hints and advice, quite the opposite. I'm just asking that when you do try to help me, treat me with respect. That's the way I try to treat others, and the way that I know others would like to be treated. I'm not aiming this at anyone in particular; it's just a simple request. Unless you say something discriminatory I won't be offended, I'm too self-absorbed to care if others think ill of me. So please, **_**please**_** just be honest and respectful in a review. Tell me what you **_**really**_** think, what you think I could change, but don't try to assure me you mean no harm, I already know that.**

**I love you all, sorry for this verbal splurge. ^__^**


	36. Happily Ever After

**A/N: Scruffypage7: Hey, I just thought I'd respond to your reviews, I'm not sure if you can get this, but if you do, please go to my author's page where you'll find my full response :D**

"_I thought I could resist you, I thought that I was strong,_

_Somehow you are different from what I've known_

_I didn't see it coming, you took me by surprise,_

_S__tole my heart before I could still know_

_Falling head over heels, thought I knew how it feels,_

_But with you it's like the first day of my life_,"

-The Veronicas, 'Speechless'

"Howell, please recite what I say to Antoinette," the priest requested in his wizened old voice.

"Seriously, it's _Toni_. How many times have –"

"Not helping the romance there, hun," Emilia hissed to her cousin from the line of bridesmaids beside her. Toni rolled her pale eyes.

"Do go on," she urged the chuckling Llewellyn, who reached forwards and took her hands.

"I do solemnly declare,'" the priest began.

"I do solemnly declare," Llewellyn repeated.

"That I, Howell Siôrs Rhydderch Llewellyn," he continued, stumbling a bit with the pronunciation.

"That I, Howell Siôrs Rhydderch Llewellyn," he repeated, trying to fight his snigger.

"Take thee, Antoinette Blanche Noëlle."

"Take thee, Antoinette Blanche Noëlle."

"To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer."

"To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer," Llewellyn repeated, his eyes never moving from Toni's.

"In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part," the priest prompted.

"In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part," Llewellyn continued, but his eyes conveyed that not even death could part them.

"According to God's holy law, in the presence of God I make this vow," the priest finished.

"According to God's holy law, in the presence of God I make this vow," Llewellyn repeated, his amber eyes sparkling with love for the woman before him.

"And now, Antoinette," the priest began, turning to Toni, who sent him a rather irritated look. She repeated after him the vows, however, without murdering him.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride," the priest announced finally. Llewellyn stepped forwards and pulled Toni to him, capturing her lips insistently. They broke apart sharing happy grins as the audience cheered around them.

"May I intervene?" George requested politely, stepping forwards as best man.

"_No_."

"Thanks, Howl, old friend," he laughed, pulling Toni by the wrist and giving her an equally firm kiss. She pulled away laughing.

"Sorry, you just aren't as sexy as him," she sighed, turning back to her husband.

"Madam, _please_, this _is_ a house of God!" the priest exclaimed in disapproval.

"I'm sure he won't mind," she laughed in response, pulling her new husband back in for another kiss.

"Aren't they just so cute?" Emilia sighed to Eli, her fellow bridesmaid.

"Cute? Nada, you're grossing me out!" she cried laughingly to Llewellyn. "Ew, _ew_. Parentals pashing," she shuddered, turning away from the scene.

"Aw, sorry Eli!" Toni apologised, sounding far more cheerful than apologetic.

"_What has been seen cannot be unseen_!"

"Lucky she's not coming on the honeymoon then," George muttered.

"_Sir_! Need I remind you _too_ that this is a house of the Lord?" the priest cried in horror.

"He'd ignore you and continue to desecrate it," Darcy assured him from the groomsmen side, causing those convened to snigger.

The reception venue had been decorated to the point of ridiculousness in various shades of rose, gold and cream, the music was good (surprisingly so for a wedding reception) and the group of people assembled was small but pleasant and loving.

"Elizabeth, oh dearie, it's so _lovely_ to see you again!" Glynis, Howl's mother, cried, rushing towards her adopted granddaughter excitedly.

"Nain! I didn't see you in the ceremony," Eli replied warmly, stepping away from Emilia and allowing the plump but pleasant woman to pull her into a bone-crushing hug. She had first met Glynis and her husband Dristan on the trip that she, Howl and Toni took to Wales to visit them in September. Both her adopted grandparents absolutely _loved_ her, and spent the two weeks they were there spoiling her to no ends.

"You looked so lovely, cariad, I cried all through the ceremony!" she declared, clutching her damp handkerchief tightly.

"Hopefully not out of grief," came Howl's teasing voice from behind. "I was just about to go embarrass myself in front of everyone assembled here. Care to watch?" he questioned pleasantly.

"I'm always in for that," Emilia threw in cheerfully.

"Toni!" Llewellyn called across the hall, where his wife was nodding miserably as her uncle, Emilia's father, droned on about how unhealthy cake was. She glanced up immediately. "I'm going to make an ass of myself, alright?" he informed her. She grinned, and nodded.

"_Howl_, you mustn't use that kind of language!" Glynis exclaimed in shock. He laughed, and gave his mother a quick hug. He said something in the beautiful flowery language that he spoke, and her eyes softened slightly, before he pulled off his dress coat and cravat, loosening the collar of his shirt.

"Take it all off!" one particularly adventurous person in the audience cried out as Llewellyn stepped over to the platform where the band was.

"Sorry George, I'm a married man now!" he called out in response, grinning as the entire room burst into laughter. He tapped the microphone warily. "Testing, hello? Anyone home?" he questioned into it playfully. Determining that it was, in fact, on, he beamed, and picked up a semi-acoustic guitar, winding the strap over his shoulders. "Alright, unfortunately, due to the restrictions of a Church of England service, my darling wife and I weren't able to write our own vows," he began. A unified 'aw' was heard out in the audience. "Yes, yes, I know you were all so looking forward to watching me make a tit out of myself with horrible poetry – sorry about the language, mother, but I decided to make a tit of myself with a guitar strapped around me instead," he informed them all playfully.

"What's he doing?" Emilia questioned in surprise.

"Serenading us?" Eli offered in vague return.

"I wrote this over two years ago, and for some reason it's Antoinette's favourite, so I decided to make a complete and total fool out of myself by reviving those days when I thought I would make a good rock star," he continued. "There will be no stripping, unfortunately, during this performance – George, I'm looking at you – but there may be some tears. On my part. I'm disgustingly sentimental," he added cheekily, before turning around to the band. He gave the countdown, and they burst into song.

"_I don't know you, but I want you,_

_All the more for that_

_And words float through me, always fool me,_

_And I can't react,_" he began, his eyes trained on Toni, who was watching with a soft, appreciative smile on her lips.

"_Games that never amount to more than their worth,_

_Will play themselves out…_

_Take this sinking boat, and point it home,_

_We've still got time, raise your hopeful voice,_

_You have a choice,_

_You've made it known…_

_Falling slowly, eyes that know me,_

_And I can't go back_

_Moods that take me, and erase me,_

_And I'm painted black_

_But you have suffered enough,_

_At war with yourself, it's time that you won…_

_Take this sinking boat, and point it home,_

_We've still got time, raise your hopeful voice,_

_You have a choice,_

_You've made it known…_"

The band broke into an instrumental as Llewellyn stepped away from the microphone. There was a few bars silence, before he began the next chorus in a soft voice, accompanied only by his guitar until the last part of the song.

"_Take this sinking boat, and point it home,_

_We've still got time, raise your hopeful voice,_

_You have a choice,_

_You've made it known…_

_Falling slowly, sing your melody,_

_I'll sing it loud_…"

The song ended with a huge round of applause and grins all around. Toni marched right up to the stage and kissed her new husband full on the lips. She whispered something to him that no one else could hear, but apparently it had a very positive effect. He laughed heartily, and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

"Apparently I have to continue playing or there won't be a honeymoon," he informed the crowd, who cheered in approval. "May I ask my _incredibly_ talented daughter to join me onstage?" he requested Eli politely, a twinkle in his amber eyes.

"No!"

"Aww, and on my wedding-day and all?" Llewellyn teased.

"Go on! Do it!" Emilia urged her, pushing her friend towards the stage, the treacherous girl she was. Eli laughingly found herself on stage with a bright red electric guitar in her hands, clashing terribly with her pale pink bridesmaid dress, but she honestly didn't care.

"'Fall at your feet'?" he suggested. She nodded, and grinned. They burst into song like jukeboxes, and she couldn't remember having a more enjoyable time.

Things had settled into a wonderfully happy routine. Both Eli and Darcy had been accepted into Oxford, however, Darcy was the one that got the partial scholarship. Eli had expected as much, as she hadn't actually received her A levels and he had done outstandingly well in them, but she used the money that Dorr had given her to pay the fees. Eli was taking a Bachelor of Arts majoring in Performance Music and English Literature, and Darcy Business and Economics, which meant they shared no classes, but occasionally could have lunch together.

Emilia had decided that she would ignore how 'vain' George found clothing and was beginning a four year degree at the London College of Fashion, and was already designing for her eco-friendly clothing label '_George'_, named just to spite and tease him. She had decided that she wanted to be an eco-warrior, and had already sold over five-hundred cute environment slogan shirts on the campus of her University.

Toni had finally finished her degree at art school and had found herself a job at a very strange and indie design company called '_Metamorphmagus' _based in London, it had about fifteen members of staff but they did good work, and it was paying her well for being lazy and making websites all day.

Things hadn't gone so wonderfully for everyone, however. Whilst her brother and sister both got accepted into Cambridge University, Clare had completely flunked out in her A levels, and was taking a 'gap year' to 'asses' her 'options', meaning that her father had given up on her doing anything intelligent with her life, and she was now dating Christian Thompson-Ruperts as a career option.

Char had moved on quite happily from Jay. _Very_ happily really, with Richard, who had moved to London to take a course at Cambridge in business management. Their relationship wasn't 'out' to Mr and Mrs Bingley, but those who knew and loved them couldn't care less about their preferences, and they were accepted with open arms.

Word from Australia said that Jay had returned to the Royal Academy of Dance in Australia, and was dancing full-time. She had the intention of becoming one of the principle dancers in a year's time, and Eli genuinely hoped that she would succeed. Lyla and Katie were about to enter year twelve in an all-girls school in Sydney (much to their disgust), Dorr was doing very well in his new job at _Manifest Publishing_ and Francie was now writing for _Vogue Australia_ and '_The Good Weekend' _magazine. She was pleased that her old family seemed to be going so well, but she was just so ridiculously happy with Llewellyn, Toni and Romulus (Llewellyn's Siberian Husky), not to mention being in such close range to Emilia, George, Darcy and Georgie.

"So how are you handling this horrible English weather then?" Darcy asked her teasingly later that night, when the madness had died down, and they were dancing slowly to a Nora Jones song.

"I must have gotten used to it," she sighed in false sorrow. "I think I'll survive," she assured him. "There was something I wanted to tell you, by the way," she added, excitement seeping into her voice. "I've already spoken to Nada and Toni about it, and they're both really great about the idea – it'll mean I'll have to make a few changes to my school schedule, but this is the opportunity of a _lifetime_," she babbled enthusiastically.

"Are you going to tell me, or will I have to ask?" he questioned doubtfully, raising an eyebrow. Eli grinned, and bit her lip to stop herself from laughing.

"Remember that day a few weeks ago when I said I was going out shopping with Em?" she questioned carefully.

"No. There are lots of days when you say you're going out shopping with her," he responded blankly. She rolled her eyes.

"Well we were, but after that I went for an audition. At the _London Palladium_," she informed him slowly.

"Isn't that owned by '_The Really Useful Group_'?" he questioned in confusion. Eli nodded. "As in, one of the biggest theatrical companies in the world, owned by Andrew Lloyd Webber, your God, your Idol, the composer of '_Phantom of the Opera_', '_Aspects of Love,_' '_Cats_, '_Jo_ –"

"Yes, yes, the list goes on!" she interrupted him, unable to hold back her excitement. "It's not a big part so far, I'll just be a minor character in some the productions that they're doing, I'm an extra, really, but… Will, I got in. I got the part," she said finally.

"You're serious?"

"NS, Sherlock."

Darcy laughed and pulled her in for a tight hug.

"I'm so _proud_ of you, Elizabeth! This is your dream!" he cried warmly.

"I wouldn't have been able to get in if it weren't for you," she insisted, stepping back from his embrace. "Seriously, you taught me _so_ much, I'm… I'm really grateful," she informed him softly.

"It's _your_ talent that got you this, Eli," he assured her, before another smile broke out on his lips. "You'll be incredible," he assured her firmly.

"We know she will," Toni's voice came, interrupting their 'moment'. She grinned cheekily. "We were going to head off for the hotel. We have to be up pretty early to catch our flight out," she informed them.

"I'll be so lonely without you!" Eli exclaimed sadly. Llewellyn chuckled.

"You'll survive, just don't starve Romulus," he instructed sternly. Eli muffled her laugh by pulling them both into a hug.

"Be good, don't get eaten by bears," she advised firmly.

"They _have_ bears in Spain?"

"I think the sentiment is quite clear," Darcy chuckled from behind.

"We'll see you in two weeks, cariad, we're attempting to slip out without an embarrassing display," Llewellyn informed her quietly.

"See you soon babe," Toni promised finally, before the new couple turned to make their exit.

"Try to bring me back a little brother or sister!" Eli called out teasingly. She held back laughter as Darcy passed her a five pound note.

"I'll never underestimate you again," he sniggered. "But it _was_ worth it," he added cheekily. "Dance with me again?" he requested, as the band began another slow song.

"Hmm. I thought you weren't very fond of dancing," she teased. He rolled his pale eyes.

"I'm not – but I _am_ very fond of you," he replied, pulling her back into his arms as they slowly moved to the sound of the music. "So how are you going to be able to handle working in a real theatre and going to University?" he questioned doubtfully.

"Hmm. I'll make it work," she shrugged. He raised a brow.

"Oh really? And how will you be able to do that?" he asked curiously. She gave another light shrug.

"I dunno. Maybe it's just because I'm 'gifted'," she laughed playfully. Darcy chuckled, and pressed his brow against hers.

"Hmm. Perhaps," he murmured softly, before leaning in for a kiss.

"They're pretty darn cute," Toni murmured softly to her husband of six hours.

"No arguments here," Howl smiled in return, he too glancing over his shoulder to see the loving couple.

"I think they're going to last. _Really_ last, you know? Not like some sort of childhood sweethearts that fall apart at the first sign of responsibility," she commented, a small smile creeping onto her face.

"They will. They love each other too much to fall apart," he assured her warmly, pressing a soft kiss to her uncovered shoulder. "Come on then, I had other ideas about how we could spend our wedding night," he murmured into her neck. Toni's grin grew as she pulled him into a kiss.

"Oh really? I suppose I'll have to muse about Eli and Darcy later then," she sighed, with poorly faked disappointment as they gripped hands and slipped out of the hall.

The couple managed to get away with a quiet exit – they didn't see the embarrassing '_just hitched_' message scribbled on the back of the car with hot pink marker in George's handwriting until they got to the hotel.

Everyone else was too busy being in love to point it out to them.

**A/N: Wow, it's all over!!!! Yay! 36 chapters!!! Thank you for all your kind support, reviews, comments and for just reading this story, it means so much to me, really, your support is everything. :D I'm glad that most of you seemed to enjoy it, and I really hope you will enjoy the sequel, '**_**The Hill**_**'. I'm going to post '**_**The Hill**_**' in the Pride and Prejudice category for the first week, and then move it to Emma, just so people don't lose track of it. You can check my author's page to find it in the next few days/week, as well as vote for your favourite character in **_**Love and Other Labels**_**! I might advise you put an author's alert on me, or you can keep checking until I put it up :D**

**Oh, and sorry about the soppiness in the last few chapters, I was reading **_**Wuthering Heights**_** when I wrote them :S And the song in this chapter was 'Falling Slowly' by Glen Hansard and Marka Irglova from the film 'Once'.**

**I'm really glad that it's over, but I'll also miss this story. Once again, thank you so much for sticking with me ^__^**

**xoxo Evie xoxo**


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